


King Of My Heart

by tricia_16



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, M/M, Openly Gay Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Twink Dean Winchester, Virgin Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 127,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricia_16/pseuds/tricia_16
Summary: When a fresh-out-of-the-closet Prince Dean is forced into an arranged marriage with the Princess of the Land Of The Angels, he’s sure he’s just signed away any and all hope of ever experiencing true love. But one knock on the castle door changes everything, and with The King and The Queen out of the kingdom and unable to interfere, Dean finds himself falling so hard and so fast for the first time in his life that he forgets to worry about the imminent return of his parents and what that might mean for him...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 925
Kudos: 1176
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, beautiful readers!
> 
> I know things are hard right now for pretty much everybody, so I want to start off by promising you that this story can be a safe place for you. There will be no angst between Dean and Castiel, no break ups only to make up, no will they/won't they, and no reason to scream at your screen because our boys are so dumb. This story is a safe place you can escape to when the rest of the world is too hard to do anything else. 
> 
> I've got you.
> 
> There is one chapter with some canon typical violence (nothing happens to Dean or Cas), but I put a warning at the beginning of the particular chapter so you’re not caught off-guard. 
> 
> As usual, my amazing beta team of [Brianna](https://twitter.com/bookbag09) and [Eliza](https://twitter.com/Darth_Pastry) have been working with me to make sure this story is polished and easy to read for you. This time around, I've partnered up with a new friend, [Elle](https://twitter.com/ElleMurr), who has been kind enough to produce some art for the story! I hope you'll enjoy seeing her bringing these characters to life as much as I have!  
> Now, make yourself comfortable and get ready to lose yourself in the feel-good-fuzzies that only come from reading Dean and Cas fall in love again and again and again...
> 
> 💚💙

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chicken is freaking _delicious._

Juicy and full of flavor, and son of a bitch, Ellen’s a miracle worker when it comes to gravy. Dean sops up a little more with the end of his roll and crams it in his mouth, and it’s only because of the not-so-subtle elbow he gets from Sam that he doesn’t moan outright.

“What do you think, Your Highness?”

Hannah’s high-pitched, timid voice reminds him she’s been prattling on about... something he was supposed to be listening to instead of silently praising their cook... and he has no idea what it is. 

“Sorry,” Dean starts. He shoots a sheepish grin her way, the same one that gets him out of trouble more often than not. “My tastebuds were sorta drowning in the sea of gravy over here.”

“You’ll have to forgive our oldest son, Hannah,” his dad says sternly. There’s a smile around the corners of the King’s mouth, but Dean can tell by the dry look he’s getting that he’s going to be in trouble for this later. “Dean and Sam had the same lessons in etiquette, but for reasons that can’t be explained, Dean’s never quite stuck.”

“No forgiveness necessary,” Hannah answers. “It’s... enlightening.”

The tone of Hannah’s voice tells him she obviously thinks he was raised in a barn (which wouldn’t have been all that bad, if you ask him) and that she doesn’t like it one bit. The only reason he manages to suppress an eye roll is because he knows he’ll be hearing about it for the rest of his life if he doesn’t. Honestly, her attitude is fine with him, because as much as he’s sure Hannah’s a perfectly nice person, the cold, hard truth is that he doesn’t care what she thinks. 

Not even a little bit. 

Sure, she’s easy enough to look at with her dark hair and big blue eyes, but the same could be said for most of the other young women who have been paraded in front of him in the last nine months since he turned nineteen. They’re all exactly the same.

Beautiful women around his age already smitten before they even speak just because of who he is, with some kind of connection (money, power) that means their marriage would benefit the King and Queen, and worst of all, without a single original thought in their heads.

He’s _bored._

Maybe there’s an argument to be made somewhere about him being a spoiled Prince, but he’s been doing this for almost a year and the only person he’s managed to have a decent conversation with in all this time is the one person who outright refused to marry him. Worked in his favor, though, because he and Charlie are best friends now, and even after spending so much time together, there hasn’t been a single moment he wondered what it would be like to hold her hand or kiss her. 

To be honest, there hasn’t been a time he’s wondered about any of the women he’s met so far in that way. And therein lies their problem.

He’s a Prince. The oldest Prince, destined to be King whether he wants to be or not. And every King needs an heir, whether he wants one or not. And in order to find a Queen to carry an heir, he needs to have these stupidly painful, pointless dinner dates with eligible bachelorettes, whether he wants to or not. The only thing he’s ever had any control over in his whole damn life is who he chooses to marry (out of the hand picked women pre-approved by his parents, of course).

It’s going _super_ so far.

“Dean’s not much of an art guy.” It’s Sam’s gentle voice that brings his attention back to the matter at hand. Has Hannah been babbling about art this whole time? He has no clue.

“Oh,” Hannah replies, clearly disappointed and hiding it poorly. “What kind of a guy are you?” she asks Dean, fluttering those long, dark eyelashes. He wonders absently if that’s worked for her in the past the same way his smile works for him. It sure as hell does nothing for him now. 

“My pride and joy is my horse,” Dean admits. “She’s a kladruber. Very rare breed, especially since she’s black instead of grey like most of what’re left.”

“Oooh, like a pony?” Hannah asks excitedly.

Dean lets out a quiet little huff of laughter. “Not quite. Baby’d eat ponies for breakfast.”

A quiet but admonishing, “Dean,” from his mom makes him wince. That probably wasn’t the socially acceptable response. Oh well. 

“Baby’s almost sixteen hands,” he explains, smiling genuinely at the look of pure shock on Hannah’s face now. He could talk about Baby all day every day. “600 kilos of solid muscle and a gleaming coat. She’s beautiful.”

“Wow.” Hannah looks down at her plate—at the food she’s barely touched, Dean notices, only increasing his dislike for her—seeming unsure about what to say next. “I’ve never spent much time with horses. I find pretty much everything about them appalling.”

And if she wasn’t already completely out of the running, that would’ve done it.

He can tell he’s not the only one who knows it, too. Not with the way his dad puts down his silverware and excuses himself less than five minutes later, and it’s pretty telling that he doesn’t get pulled into much conversation after that, thanks to his mom and Sam. Which is more than fine with him. More time to enjoy his meal in peace.

It’s mostly quiet over dessert, but thankfully Hannah’s picked up on his disinterest and has enough self-awareness not to drag things on any longer than necessary. He does his duty by bidding her goodnight once he escorts her to the carriage that will bring her back to... wherever the hell she came from in the first place. He’s sure somebody told him, but it’s hard to remember when all of these women started blurring together months ago.

By the time he comes back inside, he’s emotionally exhausted from doing the same song and dance night after night, and the last thing he wants to deal with right now is his mom standing there with her arms crossed.

“Maaaa,” he whines.

“Don’t even try it,” she interrupts, planting her hands on her hips now. “What was wrong with her?”

“I don’t know!” Dean says. The volume of his voice has risen to match the exasperation in his mom’s, even though it’s the same answer he gives her every time. He pulls at the stupid shirt that’s laced up to his neck, giving himself some space to breathe for the first time all night, and unbuttons the vest he’s worn to almost every one of these dinners. Once he pushes his puffy shirt sleeves up to his elbows and pulls his tucked-in shirt free from his pants, he _finally_ feels like himself.

His mom unthaws as she watches him, but only slightly. “Dean, if you can’t explain why you haven’t liked any of these women so far, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you find one you _will_ like.”

“I know,” he says quietly. 

He leans back against the door, feeling every bit as morose and disappointed as his mom looks. The longer he gazes at her and sees the sadness in her eyes, the worse it gets. He knows his unwillingness to choose a wife is making things hard on her, but he can’t help it. He’d like to be able to explain what the problem is, but he has no idea how to do that when he doesn’t have anything new to say. They both know they’ve had this conversation countless times before, and as frustrating as it is, there’s nothing to add tonight that hasn’t already been analyzed, challenged, or outright dismissed in the past.

There just isn’t a _spark._ He isn’t attracted to any of these women. They aren’t interesting, or funny, and for the love of the gods, he’s 19 years old and he has _never_ felt even the faintest stirring between his legs for a single one of them!

“Believe it or not, this constant parade of guests in the castle isn’t something your father and I enjoy either, you know,” Mary says. Her voice is softer and warmer now, and he knows he’s talking to his mom instead of the Queen. 

“Really?” He lifts his eyebrows at the new information, and she confirms with a shake of her head. “Well you fake it a lot better than I do.”

“Not like it’s hard,” she teases, and Dean feels his lips curve into a genuine smile. She walks over and slips her arm around his waist. He pulls her in with an arm around her shoulders and rests his cheek on top of her head. “I just want you to be happy, sweetie.”

“I know, ma,” he replies. “And I swear I’m not—I’m not _trying_ to be difficult. I just... it’s the one thing I get control over, you know?” he tries to explain. “I didn’t get a choice about most of my life, and it’s not like I’m complaining or anything because obviously I’ve got it pretty good here, I just want a chance to actually love the person I’m gonna marry.”

“I want that for you too,” she tells him. “And even if it takes another hundred women to find her, I’m willing to do the song and dance as many times as it takes.”

Which would be great, but it’s not his mom who’s been the problem with all of this. “And dad?”

She chuckles quietly and gives his chest a comforting pat. “You leave the big, bad King to me.”

He’s never seen anybody talk circles around his dad the way she does, and it fills him with pride every single time. “You're a badass, you know that?”

She laughs harder this time, but she gives him a little shove as she steps away, too. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with you. Where did you even _get_ a potty mouth like that?”

He shrugs, his heart feeling lighter now than it has in weeks. Months, even. “Natural talent.”

“Mmhmm.” It’s a skeptical hum, and it only makes him smile bigger. “Why don’t you bring your _actual_ natural talent down to the stables—where you likely learned it in the first place—and check how Baby and Cesar did on their first day together?”

Because the new groom has been on his mind ever since he checked on Baby before lunch, he agrees. “That’s a great idea. Maybe I’ll go for a quick ride to blow off some steam.”

“Either stay within the castle grounds or—”

“Take Bobby with me,” Dean finishes. “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

He says it in a mocking tone of voice that would get him in deep shit from his dad, but he looks over his shoulder as he walks down the hall to see his mom shaking her head fondly. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite son.”

Considering he overheard her tell Sam the same thing this morning, he tosses his head back and lets his laugh roll out of him, smiling to himself as it bounces off the stone walls of the castle. So maybe he can’t find a wife, but the rest of his life isn’t so bad really.

He’s so used to the castle that he barely notices it as he walks through the sitting room and out towards the back. They’re the royal family in the Land of the Hunters, but compared to some of the other castles he’s seen portraits of in the other lands, what they have here isn’t much. The castle is more or less in the shape of an upside down T with the bedrooms down each wing and the common areas smack dab in the middle. From front to back, there’s the formal sitting room, the throne room, the dining room, and the kitchen, all attached in the middle of the castle. The East wing belongs to his parents, and he and Sam share the West wing. The North wing at the back of the castle is for the full-time staff: Ellen, the cook, Bobby and Rufus, the castle security, Jo, the maid, and two bedrooms for guests that are almost always empty. All in all, the castle has less than ten bedrooms.

Rumor has it the Land of the Mage’s castle has more than a dozen full-time staff alone, so he can only imagine how many bedrooms _they_ have. The other Lands also have crowns made of gold or silver, while his family... well, his dad’s is _supposedly_ plated in bronze (though he has his doubts), and the crown Dean has to wear for formal events is nothing more than a circlet of twigs shaped into antlers. Don’t ask him how the Land of the Hunters translates to the crowned prince wearing the horns of the _hunted,_ because he has no idea. Good fucking thing his face is pretty enough that nobody spares a glance for the stupid crown.

He goes past the dining room and through the kitchen where he stops just long enough to tell Ellen that was her best chicken yet (but not so long that he has to try to dodge any questions about dinner) then he uses the door originally made for servants as his escape towards the stables. He hears the door open and close behind him, and without looking, he knows that Bobby’s keeping an eye on where he’s off to.

Just like unfastening some of his clothes had done, stepping outside onto the castle grounds makes him feel more like himself. He doesn’t have to be Prince Dean out here, he can just be Dean. He and Sam grew up out here with Jo, running around, playing hide and seek, staging elaborate sword fights with sticks, and later, wooden swords. He must’ve been shooed away from the stables five times a day every day until Bobby suggested putting him to work there. 

Nobody expected him to be able to stomach mucking out the stalls, so the fact that he _enjoyed_ the hard work was the talk of the castle for years before everybody got used to it. They got Baby for him when he turned 13, and it’s still the best gift he’s ever gotten. The groom at the time, Cain, spent three years by Dean’s side, helping him bribe Baby with apples and the occasional sugar cube, grooming her, and tirelessly working with her on a lunge line until Baby _finally_ let Dean get up in the saddle and take him for a ride when he was 16.

And she was definitely the one in control at first, there was no question about that. He grins when he remembers Bobby yelling like he was about to have a heart attack the first few times Baby almost threw him off, but there was this weird connection between himself and Baby once he was on her, and even though she was a little wild, he somehow knew she wasn’t _trying_ to buck him off. She just couldn’t figure out how to work the brakes at first. It took another year or so before they really settled into an understanding, but ever since, they’ve been like two peas in a pod.

The memory reminds him how weird it is walking down to the stables knowing that he’s not about to see Cain. He’s spent more time with the older man than pretty much anybody outside of Sam, and although he understood when Cain told him he was ready to retire, it was hard to make peace with the fact that he wouldn’t get to see him anymore. Cain never treated him like the prince or like a kid, he treated him like an equal, and honestly, Dean misses that and the warm, familiar feeling he used to get around Cain a lot more than he expected to.

Nobody was surprised when he insisted on having a hand in the hiring once Cain retired, so because he’s positive he picked the best man for the job, he’s sure Cesar did just fine today, but... well, it’s been said that he’s a tad overprotective when it comes to Baby, and he figures there’s probably some truth there. He likes that horse better than most people though, so it makes sense as far as he’s concerned.

He knows by the way the sun is hanging low in the sky that Cesar’s probably gone or almost gone for the day, so he picks up his pace and hurries the last few steps to see if he can catch him before he bails. He’s close enough to smell the hay and the unmistakable scent of horses in the air when he catches what sounds like a low murmur coming from the stables. Then what he recognizes as Cesar’s voice reaches his ears, and he smiles as he realizes Cesar must be talking to Baby.

“Just gimme a second,” he urges her. Dean’s grin widens. Baby’s a lot of things, but patient sure isn’t one of them. 

“You said that two minutes ago.”

Dean stops short. Baby’s something else, yeah, but she doesn’t talk back. (And if she did, she’d definitely talk to _him_ before the new guy.) So who’s Cesar talking to? Who the hell did Cesar bring around _his horse_ on the first day without his permission?

“And if you’d quit distracting me, I’d be done by now.”

Dean peeks around the corner, and his eyes go wide as saucers when he gets a look at the way a man has Cesar backed up against the fence post. His first instinct is to intervene, thinking they must be in some kind of altercation or something, when the next thing he hears stops him in his tracks.

“One kiss,” the man says. 

“One,” Cesar agrees, and Dean’s knees damn near give out on him when he sees the chaste but lingering kiss this man places on Cesar’s lips. There’s a familiarity there, like they’ve done this a million times before, and as their fingers tangle together at their sides, Dean feels his heart start jackhammering in his chest. 

_Cesar’s_ _gay!_

He’s heard whispers of men like this. It’s 2020, so it’s not illegal or anything, but it’s really rare around here, and even though there are some gay couples in their kingdom, he’s _never_ seen two men kiss before. He knows it’s a private moment he shouldn’t watch, and he’s about to tear himself away when the other man raises his hand to cup Cesar’s face. He’s seen men and women embrace and touch like this so many times before, but never, not a single time, did his body do what it’s starting to do right now as he takes in the sight of this man’s hand—this man’s large, very manly hand—move around to the nape of Cesar’s neck. 

Cesar melts under the man’s touch and before he can even begin to stop himself, Dean finds himself wondering what it might feel like to be touched like that by a man. To have a big, work-roughened hand sliding along the back of his neck, down his spine to rest on the dip of his lower back. How different might it feel to be pulled in and pressed snugly to another strong, broad chest? He revels in the full-body shiver those thoughts produce, in the way his blood heats up and his face feels too hot. His palms are sweating and he’s hyper aware of the way his dick definitely feels heavier now than it did a few minutes ago— _holy shit!_

This is what it feels like to be aroused, isn’t it?

But then he staggers back a step as the ramifications of that occur to him.

He’s attracted to men?

He’s attracted to men.

 _He’s attracted to men!_ _  
_  
No fucking wonder he’s never been interested in any of the women his family has been parading in front of him all this time! He doesn’t want to marry a woman, he wants to marry a man!

Wait. Is he _allowed_ to marry a man? He’s pretty sure gay marriage is a thing, it’s just not really talked about. Of course, siring an heir will be one hell of a problem if he marries somebody who can’t have babies, but maybe... maybe his mom would be okay with that. She did say all she wants is for him to be happy. And there’s Sam! He’s already got his future wife picked out. _They_ could have babies, the baby would still be a Winchester, still be an heir, and hey, Dean would be off the hook to marry whoever he wants to marry.

His dad, though...

He winces at the very thought. King John would never be okay with any of this. But then again... his dad’s a tough nut to crack, but if anybody can do it, his mom can. She’d fight for him, wouldn’t she? And even if she wouldn’t, they can’t _force him_ to marry anybody, so fighting this wouldn’t help their cause at all. Maybe it can work.

“Your Highness?”

He’d hit the fucking roof if there was one. As it is, he jumps about a foot and curses under his breath when he sees it’s just Cesar. And his... boyfriend?

“Son of a bitch, you scared the shit out of me.”

A bark of laughter escapes Cesar. “How very royal of you.”

Dean grins. “Never was one much for formalities.” But then as he remembers the circumstances, he sobers up, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. “Though I have to say, bringing somebody I didn’t approve of around Baby on the first day of your employment at the castle wasn’t the smartest thing you could’ve done.”

“I apologize, Your Highness. My husband came to escort me home. He was in the stables but not in Baby’s stall.”

“Your husband?” Dean repeats stupidly, already forgetting he was trying to be intimidating and _royal_ a second ago.

“Yes.” Cesar motions for the other man to come closer with a mixture of nerves and determination etched into his features, and Dean realizes he respects the hell out of him for it. “This is Jesse. Jesse, his Royal Highness, Prince Dean.”

Although it isn’t royal protocol, Dean offers his hand for a handshake. He sees the surprise flit across both of their faces, but Jesse takes his offered hand and gives it a sturdy shake. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” Jesse says.

His eyes are a little too wide and he’s definitely got the, _holy shit, I’m talking to the Prince,_ thing going on, but if this guy’s the husband of the dude who’s going to be looking after Baby, he needs to make sure they have a good rapport, too.

“Please, call me Dean. I, uh, didn’t know you were married,” he says to Cesar. The _to a guy_ is unsaid, but clear as day.

Cesar shrugs. “Didn’t exactly come up in the interview, Your Highness.”

Touche. “You been together long?”

“Six years,” Cesar replies.

“Congratulations,” Dean says. Then, getting back down to it, he says, “I don’t want to keep you, I just wanted to check in and see how Baby did today?”

“She’s a tough one,” Cesar tells him. “But she responds well to bribery.”

Dean nods and smiles. “Yeah, that’s how I won her over, too. She didn’t go out for a ride today, huh?”

“No. I was under the impression you were the only one who rides her, Your Highness.”

“Dean,” he says again. “And yeah,” he confirms. “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t overwork her. I need to blow off some steam.”

“I can help you saddle her up,” Cesar offers, already moving towards the stall.

“No, I got it.” Jesse doesn’t manage to hide the surprise on his face fast enough for Dean not to notice. “I know how to saddle my own horse.”

“I meant no disrespect, Your Highness. I just never expected a Prince to do anything to get his hands dirty.”

“Nobody in the kingdom has mucked out more stalls here than I have,” Dean tells him proudly. “You’re free to go, you two. And, uh, feel free to hang out whenever, Jesse. But if anything happens to my horse... well, let’s just say you better be able to outrun me _and_ my guards.”

They both smile, though he was only half joking, and after their goodbyes, Dean follows the sound of Baby’s quiet whinnies to greet his girl.

“Hey, Baby.” She butts her head forward, looking for the pat he’s about to give her, and she nickers softly when he runs his hand along the side of her face. “Missed you too, sweetheart. Yeah, you know you’re my best girl, don’t you?”

And according to the revelation he had only a little while ago, apparently she always will be. As much as he needs time to think about that, he’s careful to keep his mind focused while he goes through the motions of brushing down Baby’s back to make sure there’s no grit in the way, then lying down the blanket embroidered with the royal crest. By the time he’s adding the saddle, she’s standing as still as possible while trembling with excitement, and part of him feels dumb for loving a horse this much but the truth is, he’d die for this one.

He leads her out of the stall, checks the cinch one more time, then hops up on her, swinging one leg over effortlessly and getting up into the softest freaking leather saddle he’s ever felt. He does a quick warm up with her to make sure she’s in a listening mood, and then they’re off. The first burst of speed is enough to make his heart take flight, and by the time he feels the wind on his face, he is absolutely, unequivocally, 100% in his happy place.

He feels so alive and invincible that it’s easy for his mind to drift back to what he saw between Cesar and Jesse and how it made him feel. Just thinking about it makes it impossible to deny how his body lit up at the sight of two men together like that. Even the memory has his face feeling warm and his heart beating faster. It’s exciting and brand-new, and he can’t wait to meet a man his age he’s attracted to and test out his new theory.

It just sucks that it’s _so inconvenient_ for him to be attracted to men instead of women.

He wonders idly if his parents will do the same kind of dinner date thing they’ve been doing, just with a bunch of guys now that he knows what he’s looking for. Ish. What _is he_ looking for? The first thing that comes to mind is tall. Yes, definitely tall. He’s tall himself, and the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks he’d like being able to go toe-to-toe with somebody the same size as him. His mom’s small but mighty so he knows his future spouse doesn’t have to be tall to be able to hold his own, but if he’s dreaming, he might as well put it out into the universe. What else, though? As much as he was attracted to the things Jesse and Cesar were doing, he definitely isn’t attracted to either of them. So tall, yeah, but big, bald, burly men aren’t gonna do it for him. No, probably somebody more his size. Fit, but not... bodybuilder muscley, and not so thin that he’d worry about a gust of wind knocking the dude over. Definitely a full head of hair, and a kind face, and a killer smile he’d want to spend his whole life staring at. 

He’s struck suddenly with such a strong wave of longing it sucks the breath right out of his lungs. _Son of a bitch,_ he wants that with somebody so damn bad. His heart aches with how badly he wants it now that he can see it, now that he can imagine how it might feel to hold a man’s hand in his own, or to have strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close late at night. 

Yeah, he’s going to have to bring this up, and sooner rather than later. He can’t... he _won’t_ marry a woman he’s not attracted to and has no hope of ever falling in love with just because it would make things easier for the kingdom. He didn’t ask to be the eldest son of the King, and as much as it’s supposed to fall on him to continue the family’s bloodline, it shouldn’t have to be that way. Not when it isn’t something he’s comfortable with.

He feels more centered by the time he’s cooling Baby down again, and when he’s got her all cleaned up and put back in her stall for the night, he knows he’s gotta talk to somebody about this before he mentions it to his mom and dad. 

He finds Sam in the library with Charlie, Rufus acting as their chaperone standing right outside the door. The sight of him puts Dean’s back up, but he knows once he joins Sam and Charlie that Rufus will move to the end of the hall, so as long as he keeps his voice down his secret should be safe for now.

It’s a constant disappointment to him that even though he grew up at Rufus’s knee, he’s never been able to get the serious man to crack a smile, but instead of letting it deter him, it just challenges him to be more and more creative with his greetings. 

“Hey, Roof Top,” Dean greets him.

“Your Highness.”

Not even the tiniest twitch of his lips, dammit. “I got these two for a few if you wanna take ten,” he offers.  
  
Rufus nods. “I’ll be at the end of the hall. Don’t make me regret this.”

Dean laughs but gives him what he hopes is an encouraging thumbs up before he walks into the library. “Hey losers.”

Without even looking up from the book in his lap, Sam says, “Takes one to know one.”

“Hey, I was looking for you!” Charlie exclaims. “Were you out at the stables?”

“Yeah, took Baby for a ride.”

“Told you,” Sam says.

“Sam told me you hit it off with Hannah,” Charlie says with an impish little smile.

“I plan to propose tomorrow,” he deadpans.

“Don’t let dad hear you say that,” Sam warns.

Dean snorts a laugh, then lowers his voice to get their attention. “Hey, the, uh, the new guy Cesar was down at the stables when I got there. And he wasn’t alone.”

Sam looks up, his mouth hanging open with mock horror. “Without clearing Baby’s visitor with the prince first?”

“Off with his head!” Charlie adds.

His lips twitch, but he fights down his smile so he can give this the dramatic effect it’s warranted. “He was with his husband.”

The abrupt silence and serious faces speak volumes, and once again, Dean finds his heart hammering in his chest and his hands sweating bullets. What if they think Jesse and Cesar are disgusting? What will he do then? Will he be brave enough to just spit it out anyway, or will he chicken out? 

Charlie’s the first one to drop her gaze, and Sam’s the one who speaks first. “What’s he like?”

Dean feels most of his nerves settle at the non-judgmental question. “Seemed like a nice guy. A little star struck.”

“Did you know they were gay?” Sam asks.

“No clue.”

“Does it really matter?” Charlie wonders.

“Not to me,” Dean declares, hoping he can be a good influence if it’s necessary.

“Me neither,” Sam agrees.

He breathes a silent sound of relief, feeling safe to say what he has to say now that he knows Sam isn’t likely to react badly. “Well, I’m really glad to hear that, Sammy, because I think I figured out why I haven’t been into any of the girls mom’s picked for me.”

Charlie’s eyes go a little wide and he knows she’s figured it out. Sam’s a smart kid, so he figures he’s only a few seconds behind, but Sam surprises him when he squints his eyes and asks, “Why?”

“I, uh...” He glances at Charlie again, suddenly hyper aware that if she wanted to, she could probably cause some trouble for him and the castle if she let this leave the room. But then she smiles at him, all soft and encouraging, and he dismisses the thought altogether. Charlie would never do that to him. “I think I’m gay, man.”

Sam’s lips turn down at the corners, his eyebrows go up, and after three, incredibly long, drawn-out, tension-filled seconds, he says, “Huh.”

“Huh?” Dean echoes incredulously. “That’s all you have to say?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaims. “What am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know!” Dean echoes. “Good for you? I’m happy for you? Congratulations, maybe?”

“Well, yeah,” Sam says, huffing a quiet laugh. “All that stuff! I mean, I’m definitely surprised, but now that you said it, I guess it kind of makes sense.”

He wasn’t expecting _that._ “It does?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, it does,” Sam reiterates. “You’ve had all these beautiful women throwing themselves at you all day every day and you never gave any of them a second look. Even the most sought after women in the kingdom! And you could’ve had any of them. And, now that I’m thinking about it, your infatuation with Cain makes so much more sense.”

Dean scoffs. “I wasn’t _infatuated_ with Cain.”

“Uh, you sorta were,” Charlie says, grinning. “Cain this and Cain that.”

“You even tried slicking your hair back like his before you realized how dumb it made you look.”

“Screw you,” Dean says. But honestly, Sam’s kinda making him rethink some things. That warm sensation he had low in his belly whenever Cain would look at him a certain way, the way he always felt a little sweaty whenever Cain was doing anything particularly laborious and his shirt would cling to his skin just right...

“You used to light up whenever you talked about him, or whenever he was around for dinner,” Charlie adds. “It was adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re totally right!” Sam laughs. “He always went all red and started stuttering whenever Cain was around!”

“I did _not,”_ Dean protests.

But really, he did, didn’t he?

Gods, did he have a crush on Cain this whole time and had no idea? The dude’s _old_ with gray hair and everything, but... it’s not like he looked old. He looked good for his age. Hell, he looked good, _period._ He had a pretty face but he was a little rough around the edges, and his voice was all low and growly and... shit, he was attracted to Cain!

“Why didn’t anybody tell me?” he asks the two of them.

Sam guffaws loudly but Charlie just shrugs. “I thought you knew and that’s why you wanted to marry me.”

Because that makes absolutely _zero_ sense to his befuddled mind, he says, “What?”

“I’m gay, too,” Charlie says slowly, like what she’s telling him is as obvious as the sky being blue. “Always have been, always will be.”

Dean’s sure his jaw is hanging open unattractively, but he’s legitimately stunned. “Holy shit, I had _no idea!”_

“Me neither!” Sam says. “Wow, am I the only one attracted to the opposite sex?”

Charlie giggles. “You’re officially the minority. Unless you wanna come to the gay side?”

Sam laughs but shakes his head. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick with Jess.”

Sam has been quietly courting Jessica Moore, the daughter of the kingdom’s doctor, since he first laid eyes on her at twelve years old. Sammy’s only 16, so it’s not much more than holding hands and kisses on cheeks at this point, but it seems clear to everybody that the two of them are going to end up together. Which actually works out pretty damn well for him.

“Good thing, too, or you would’ve just fucked up my whole plan.”

“Language,” Sam tutts. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “How do you feel about being the father of the future King?”

Sam screws his face up in confusion for about five seconds before what Dean’s thinking seems to sink in. “Oh, shit.”

“Language,” Dean teases, and Charlie bursts into giggles.

“You won’t be able to have kids,” Sam says.

“Nope,” Dean agrees. “Which means in order to continue the royal bloodline...”

 _“I_ have to have kids.” Sam takes a deep, slow breath, then blows it out in a long stream of air. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing Jess wants a bunch.”

Dean walks over and sits on the arm of Sam’s chair. He waits for Sam to meet his eyes, then he says, “Seriously. I gotta know you’re okay with this before I talk to mom and dad. You know how much I’ve hated having my whole life planned out for me since before I was even born, and the last thing I want is to pile all that onto your shoulders if it’s not something you want.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve always wanted kids anyway, so it’s not like you’re forcing something on me that I wasn’t already planning on. Besides, this way we can _both_ be happy, I can take some of the responsibility off of _your_ shoulders, and hopefully I won’t have to sit through another hundred painful dinners before you pick a guy this time.”

“Oh ha ha,” Dean snarks. Really though, he’s feeling light enough with Sam’s easy acceptance and Charlie’s surprising solidarity that he wouldn’t be surprised if he floated right up off of the chair. When Sam only laughs, he reaches out to ruffle his brother’s long locks, and now it’s his turn to laugh when Sam squawks and tries to smooth it down again. 

“Jerk,” Sam complains.

“Bitch.”

 _“Language!”_ Charlie says, and the three of them all burst out into laughter. 

This is exactly what he needed. His brother and his closest friend, both on his side, making him laugh and feel like he hasn’t changed one bit even though a part of him is uncomfortably aware that his whole life is about to be turned upside down. Knowing that he still has to tell his mom and dad niggles at the back of his mind, but because there’s no part of him who thinks that’s going to go as well as this has, he chooses to stay where he is and lets Sam and Charlie tease him mercilessly about Cain and how oblivious he’s been this whole time.

It’s irresponsible of him, and maybe a little immature, too, but he asks Charlie and Sam to keep this between them for tonight. They agree without qualm, and he decides to go to bed that night without telling his parents. He feels good about his revelation today and finally understanding why he had so little interest in any of the women he’s met so far, and he doesn’t want anything to put a blemish on the memory of what he knows is going to be a life-changing day in his life. 

For tonight at least, he’s at peace with the day’s discovery as he tucks himself into bed, and for the first time in his life, he feels excited and even a little optimistic about the prospect of finding somebody to share his life with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you probably have a lot of questions about this fantasy world, but I promise if you hang in there they will be answered! 😊


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** For an unkind reaction to Dean coming out.

Thankfully, the next day is the weekend, which means Dean doesn’t get woken up at the asscrack of dawn to start a day’s worth of his “royal duties.” Most of the time that means his schooling, but he also has music lessons, etiquette classes, and battle training thrown in there, too. Music lessons aren’t so bad, though he’s never been able to figure out why it’s so important that he learns how to play the piano, and battle training is his favorite part of the day, hands-down. 

Not to toot his own horn or anything, but he’s been told many times that he’s among the best in the kingdom when it comes to swordplay. Even though he uses a mixture of his formal training and his own “idjit” freestyle technique (according to Bobby), he hasn’t been beaten in a duel against any of their soldiers in more than a year, _and_ he even bested Bobby two out of the last three times they went head-to-head. Bobby hasn’t given him serious shit about his technique since, and he actually asked Dean to show him how he throws his short blade since it’s far more accurate than how Bobby’s been teaching his men. He only let it go to his head a little bit.

Other than all of his schooling, he’ll occasionally have to sit in on some official meeting with his parents during the week, either to visit with people who have come from other lands or for what they call “networking,” which as far as he can tell is just a polite way to say schmoozing. People seem drawn to him in ways they aren’t with his parents, so he’s gotten pretty good at the whole schmoozing thing. Anytime his parents have somebody they really want to impress, Dean takes a seat close by so that he can charm them. It’s a weird thing to get both chastised and exploited for his improper behavior depending on the circumstance, but it’s something he’s gotten used to over the years.

But he’s got nothing on his schedule today, and he’s looking forward to a big breakfast, spending some quality time with Baby this afternoon, and then having a chat with his parents to hopefully try to figure out how to move forward with finding a man for him to date.

With nothing important to dress for, Dean throws on his most casual clothes, a pair of thick but surprisingly comfortable black slacks and a long-sleeve shirt, and then he takes off down the hallway and walks towards the kitchen. Technically, he’s supposed to eat in the dining room, but he and Sam spent so much time stealing food out of the kitchen growing up that they have their own little stools in the corner by the fridge.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Ellen greets him. “You look like you slept well.”

“I really did,” Dean tells her. “Woke up starving.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” she says dryly. “What’ll it be?”

“Pancakes and sausage?” he asks.

She nods and rolls up her sleeves, abandoning whatever she was working on to start in on his breakfast. She pulls a bowl out of the fridge and places it in front of him. “Start on that or your mama’ll have my head.” He’s not a big fan of fruit, but he also knows Ellen _will_ tell his mom if he doesn’t eat some of it, so he chooses an oddly shaped strawberry and pops it into his mouth. It’s a good one, sweet and not too sour, and so he digs in without reservations for the next. 

Ellen’s throwing ingredients in a bowl when the door swings open as Jo walks in, and her face lights up at the sight of him. “Heard your dinner last night went real well,” Jo says, using a tone of voice that lets him know she heard the exact opposite.

“If only all the other women were as charming as you,” he says back.

She snorts a laugh. “You wish.”

“Joanna Beth!” Ellen scolds her. “Where are your manners? You didn’t use his title when you addressed him for the first time _and_ you sassed him?”

“Yeah, Jo,” Dean says under his breath.

“You’re about to lose your seat, Your Highness,” Ellen says, using the same scolding tone she’d used with Jo. Jo sticks her tongue out behind Ellen’s back and Dean scowls, which makes Ellen whip her head around to pin Jo with a sharp look. “How many times do I gotta tell you he’s the Prince?”

“Sorry!” Jo says, clearly annoyed. “To me, he’s the freckle-faced kid who hid in the same spot in Hide and Go Seek for like, three years running.”

“Because it was the best spot!” Dean defends.

“Yeah, the first time.”

“Alright, you two,” Ellen says. “I swear, some days it feels like I’ve been stoppin’ your bickering since the day I was born.”

“Okay, okay,” Jo says under her breath.

Because he really doesn’t want to get Jo in trouble, Dean speaks up. “Ellen, honestly, I don’t mind Jo talking to me without addressing me properly,” he says, serious now. “I’ve asked you both to just call me Dean a thousand times.”

“And we don’t because it’s not proper,” she reminds him. “Just because you’re not big on formalities doesn’t mean it’s right, and I don’t appreciate you undermining my parenting.”

He is not a stupid man, so that’s more than enough to shut him up. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You want some help, mom?” Jo asks.

“You can start browning some sausage for me, if you have the time.”

“Anything for the prince,” Jo simpers, and Dean couldn’t suppress his grin for anything.

“That’s more like it,” he teases.

“So, what _was_ the problem with Miss Hannah last night?” Ellen asks.

“No problem,” Dean says carefully. Ellen shoots him the same look he’s been getting for as far back as he can remember, the one that tells him she ain’t buying what he’s selling. “She seemed like a nice girl... easy on the eyes... into art...”

“And yet she was still out in her carriage before the tea could cool,” Jo adds.

“Sometimes it just doesn't work out,” he tries.

“More like every time,” Jo counters.

“Do you prefer blondes or somethin’?” Ellen wonders.

Knowing they’ll just keep bugging him until he gives them something, he admits, “She said horses were appalling.”

They both grimace at the same time, and he laughs quietly as he selects a grape out of the bowl, tips his head back and launches it into the air before catching it expertly in his mouth. 

“Seriously, can I start giving a cheat sheet or something before they come through the door?” Jo questions. “Anybody who’s ever heard of you should know you love that horse more than any man should ever love a member of the animal kingdom.”

Insulted, he complains, “Hey!”

“It ain't a bad idea,” Ellen agrees. “Any clue who’s up next? Maybe we can give them a crash course in what not to say.”

That starts the three of them off on a ridiculous conversation that consists of listing the worst things people could say to get any of them to end a dinner date fast. His cheeks are sore from laughing so much by the time there’s finally an opening to bring up what’s been on his mind since last night.

“Hey, before I forget, I came across some juicy gossip I have a feeling you ladies will wanna sink your teeth into,” he tells them.

“Oh?” Ellen says, trying and failing not to look too interested. “What’s that?”

He’s being completely selfish by sharing this about Cesar, mainly so that he can see what Ellen and Jo’s reactions are, but he’s sure they won’t spread it around further so he lets that ease his conscience a little bit. 

“You know the new groom, Cesar?” They both nod, already dying to hear what he’s going to say. “He’s married.” They only look mildly interested, so he pauses just long enough to make them think that was it, then finishes, “To a man.”

“Oh really?” Ellen asks.

“Pinky swear.”

“How did you find out?” Jo asks.

“Saw ‘em together when I went to check on Baby before bed last night.”

 _“Saw them,_ saw them?” Jo asks.

“Yep.”

“What were they doing?” she follows up.

“Kissing a little. Nothing inappropriate or anything.”

Her jaw drops. “Was it gross?”

“Joanna!” Ellen chastises.

Dean shrugs, feeling his cheeks heat up from the question. Will Jo think _he’s_ gross? “Not really. I mean, I’ve never seen two guys together like that before so I was shocked for a second, but it wasn’t gross or weird or anything.”

“As it should be,” Ellen says firmly. “If those boys are in love, then I say all the power to them. It ain’t up to us to judge who should or shouldn’t love each other if they’re both happy.”

“Oh, I’m not judging!” Jo clarifies. “But I’m like you,” she says to Dean. “I haven’t seen guys together before either, but—”

“It isn’t as if the two of you spend a lot of time off of the castle grounds,” Ellen interrupts. “It ain’t as unusual as you seem to think, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I was _about_ to say, I don’t have a problem with it or anything,” Jo finishes. 

“Well, based on what I saw last night, I’m guessing they’re not exactly shy about it, so maybe you’ll get lucky,” he tells her.

“Can’t wait,” Jo says sarcastically. “Oh, before I forget, I’m gonna get a hazmat suit and do your sheets today. So no afternoon naps.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive. I gotta go talk to my mom and dad about something anyway.”

Some of his hesitancy must creep into his voice, because Jo stops what she’s doing and looks at him with concern. “Hey, is everything okay, Dean?”

He shrugs. “I’ll let you know when I’m done talking to them.”

Jo nods, looking worried, and after a few minutes of silence, she brings the sausage over to Ellen and slides it onto a plate. Ellen adds three fluffy pancakes to the plate, grabs a jar of syrup and a tiny plate of butter, then somehow balances everything and brings it over to him. 

“You’re a brave one,” Ellen says, placing the plate in front of him.

“Believe me, it’s necessity, not bravery,” Dean corrects. “And thanks for breakfast. Looks awesome.”

Ellen gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Start with your mama,” she suggests. “I don’t know how she does it, but if anybody can get the king on your side, it’ll be her. Now stop your worrying and eat up.”

Because nobody argues with Ellen, he nods his head and picks up his fork. “Yes, ma’am.”

Jo leaves shortly after, but Sam comes in looking for his breakfast, too. He asks for an egg white omelette full of vegetables, and he eats Dean’s left over fruit while he waits. Sam babbles on about the book he was reading last night, and as much as Dean doesn’t really care, the familiar sound of his brother’s voice is soothing enough that it puts him at ease.

He stays even after he’s finished his meal, and when Sam says he’s supposed to go for a walk to pick up Jess, Dean offers to go with him. The two of them stroll leisurely into town and back with Bobby behind them, Dean trying to ignore the way his heart aches when he sees how easily Sam and Jess’s hands come together and swing between them as they walk. It’s that more than anything that has his feet carrying him back to the castle and straight to the King and Queen’s wing.

Rufus is waiting outside the hallway, and Dean nods to him. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” he jokes.

“Your Highness,” Rufus nods, stern as always. “The King is in his office, the Queen should be in her room.”

“Thanks, Rufus.”

He walks down the hallway and knocks on his mom’s door, then turns the knob and walks in. His mom’s dressed down, too, and the sight of her in a simple baby blue dress with her blonde hair hanging loose makes him smile. 

“You look pretty today,” he tells her.

She blushes and waves a hand to dismiss him, but walks over to pull him into a hug anyway. “You’re too charming for your own good,” she tells him.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Dean points out, and she gives him a little slap on the chest before she leads him across the plush area rug to two high-backed chairs by the window. They’re a little bit worn like most things are in the castle, but his dad’s always told him their things have a history and to be proud of them, so he always has been. 

“When you want to be,” she corrects. “Did you need something, sweetie?”

“Yeah, I kinda wanted to talk to you about the whole courting thing.”

She seems surprised, but pleasantly so. “Did you think of something that might help us find your match?”

“I guess you could say that,” he says, laughing a little. He ducks his head, trying to gather the courage to just come out and say it, but now that he’s here and really about to do it, he’s petrified. What if she doesn’t support him? What if she tells him to cut it out and stop entertaining such frivolous thoughts? What if she tells him it’s gross?

“You seem so nervous,” she says, reaching over to place her hand on his knee. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “This is sorta a big deal and I don’t know how you’re gonna react.”

“I love you,” she assures him. “Whatever you have to say isn’t going to change that.”

“Okay, well... I just figured out why I haven’t been into any of the girls you’ve set me up with so far, and when I say _just,_ I mean last night. I wasn’t keeping this from you or anything.”

“Okay,” she says carefully. 

“I’m not attracted to women,” he manages to get out. His mom’s face is carefully blank, but her hand tightens where it is on his leg, and it forces out the rest when he has a sudden urge to put the cap back on and bottle it all inside. “I’m, well, I guess I’m gay.”

His mom blinks at him, her eyelashes fluttering with each subsequent opening and closing. “You’re gay?” she repeats.

Dean nods, his stomach in knots. “Yeah. I... I’m really sorry, ma, but I can’t marry a woman.”

She nods her head, and he can see her throat working to swallow, but she starts nodding anyway. “Okay,” she says hoarsely. “Okay, we’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah?” Dean says, cautiously hopeful.

“Of course.” She smiles more genuinely now, and Dean can tell the shock is starting to wear off and the mother he knows and loves is rising slowly to the surface. “You don’t have to be sorry for being who you are, Dean. You’re our son above everything else, and I meant it when I said I just want you to be happy. If a man is what’s going to make you happy, then _I’m_ happy to start introducing you to young men your age instead of women.” When Dean smiles as the knot in his chest starts to loosen, she smiles back and adds, “Maybe I’ll get to listen to stories about horse riding and weapons training instead of music class and art for once.”

He lights up when that occurs to him for the first time. Maybe he’ll actually have something in common with a man! “I never even thought of that,” Dean admits. “I might actually care about something somebody talks about at dinner.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” she asks, teasing him gently. “Did you have somebody in mind?” she asks suddenly.

“Nah,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I’ve never really looked at anybody and had those kinds of thoughts, I just... saw a gay couple together recently and all it took was one look at the two of them and it hit me like lightning. For the first time in my life I could _picture_ what it might be like to have somebody fall asleep next to me, and I knew why.”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so happy for you,” she says tearfully, and Dean stands when she does, accepting the tight, lingering hug that goes on until both of their eyes have dried over again.

She squeezes his hand as they pull apart and gestures for him to sit down again. “Do you feel better now?”

He nods, but admits, “I do, but only kind of. I’m glad you’re okay with it, but honestly, it wasn’t really you I was worried about telling.”

She lifts her eyebrows and pushes herself back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Your father... it might take him some time to be okay with this,” she warns him. “Do you want me to tell him for you?”  
  
He shakes his head without even considering the alternative. “I want to know what his genuine reaction is.”

“That’s fair,” she says. “But you need to know that however he reacts, it’s not because he loves you any less. He just... he’s had this idea of how your life would go in his head because that’s the way his life went and his father’s before him, and so it might be hard for him to let go of that at first. But that’s on him, not you, okay?”

“What do you think he’s gonna say?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. But we can tell him together if you want. And that way you’ll know no matter what that you’ve got somebody on your side.”

It might be the coward’s way out, but he’s not too proud to take it. “Yeah, okay.”

“Do you want to just let this sit with you for a little bit and then tell him when you’re feeling more settled?”

It’s an appealing thought, but he really just wants to get it out in the open now and have it done and over with. He lets out a deep sigh. “I figure we might as well get it out of the way now.”

“Alright, we can do that,” his mom agrees, getting to her feet. “He’s been holed up in his office working on something since we finished that dinner last night. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he could definitely use the break.”

Together, they walk over to his dad’s office. He notices Rufus and Bobby switching places at the end of the hall and wonders what that’s all about, but before he can ask, his mom knocks on the door. 

When his dad pulls it open... he doesn’t look happy. “Dean, good,” he says flatly. “I was going to send for you in a minute. We have something we need to discuss.”

“Dean has something he’d like to discuss with you, too,” Mary says for him.

“I’m afraid it will have to wait,” John insists. “Come sit.”

Mary rolls her eyes once John turns around, but nods to Dean, letting him know he should just go with what his dad wants to talk about first. He’s been trained to follow the King’s orders since before he could walk and talk, so of course, Dean steps into the office and takes one of the two seats in front of his dad’s desk. He’s always hated this room. There’s nowhere in the castle that feels colder, in his opinion. It’s all business here, royal crests splashed all over the room like his dad might forget he’s the king without it. Without even knowing what his dad wants to discuss, he knows it has nothing to do with the family and everything to do with the kingdom, and there’s no way that means anything good for him.

“You know some of the other kingdoms have been battling with the Demons lately,” his dad begins. He lowers his chin in a nod. The Demons trying to claim land from other kingdoms has been an on-going problem for as far back as he can remember. They’re mean, fight dirty, and aren’t above killing innocent people to get what they want. “As the Hunters and the best-trained soldiers in the Realm, our men have been called on time and time again to help neighboring kingdoms. Your expertise in battle training has even taught our men a thing or two they’ve been able to pass on to keep the advantage,” his dad says. For a moment, Dean has the bizarre thought that his dad might actually be proud of him, but then it’s business as normal a second later. “The Angels are currently at war with the Demons. The Angels have large numbers but no formal battle training, and they’re losing. Badly. The one thing they do have, though, is money.” 

Knowing he’s supposed to say something, but unsure what, Dean says, “Okay? How does that help?”

“They also have a princess looking to marry.”

_Shit._

“We’ve been corresponding through letters, and although it’s been challenging since the King of the Angels insists on writing in Enochian, I’ve managed to find a book with translations and we’ve come to an agreement.”

“An agreement about what?” his mom asks, and _oh boy,_ does she sound pissed already.

“You know as well as I do how badly this kingdom could use the money, Mary. Other kingdoms have automobiles, airplanes, television, computers. In some ways, we’re _centuries_ behind other kingdoms when it comes to technology and we have no hope of catching up without a big move like this.” 

His mom goes to say something, but his dad lifts a hand to stop her before she even starts. 

“If I have to keep sending my men there to defend the Angels, that means I have to keep training more and more here. We both know that Bobby is already overrun because of the extra work. We need to hire more people to do the training, and that’s going to cost money we don’t have. The agreed upon sum of money from the Angels will provide us with more than we need—more than this kingdom has ever had—and uniting our kingdom with the Angels will give us a position of power that’s more than I’ll ever be able to offer my people without it.”

“Your _people?”_ Mary echoes. “What about your son?”

John dismisses that with a quiet huff of laughter. “Dean can’t settle on a woman to marry anyway. He’s a good man.” The King stops, looks straight at him, and says, “You’re a good man, Dean. A smart man. I hate that this falls on your shoulders, but if you do the right thing here, you could make a real difference in the kingdom. Princess Castielle is only a few years older than you, and her father tells me that she has eyes the color of the ocean. A real looker.” His mom makes a high-pitched sound of disbelief. “She’s willing to take your hand in order to secure the safety of her people, the same way I hope you’re willing to take hers in order to secure the financial security of yours.”

His mind is spinning, going in a thousand different directions, trying to form a clear path between what’s best for him and what’s best for the people of the kingdom, and then trying to figure out if he’s supposed to put everybody else's needs in front of his own when it comes to _his_ marriage.

“He won’t,” his mom says for him. 

He’s sure he’s never loved her more than he does right now. When he was too confused to speak up, she didn’t even hesitate.

His dad’s eyes skirt over to her slowly. “You could let him speak for himself, Mary.”

“If you would have let him speak to begin with, we wouldn’t have had to listen to this preposterous offer in the first place,” she shoots back.

John seems to be grappling for patience, but he takes a breath and looks to Dean. “What did you want to tell me before I brought this up?”  
  
He looks over at his mom, feeling helplessly backed into a corner. This couldn’t have come up at a worse time. He knows it won’t matter what he has to say now anyway, because there’s no way his dad’s going to change his mind about this. Not when he already has this whole thing planned out for the kingdom.

“It’s okay, honey,” his mom prompts him. 

He knows before he even opens his mouth that this isn’t going to go well, but he tells himself that if he just spits it out now, at least he won’t have to worry about doing it later. He can just get it over with, get it out into the open, and then he can deal with his dad’s overreaction and move on.

“I’m gay.”

John leans forward as if he didn’t hear him correctly. “You’re what?”

“I’m gay,” Dean repeats. “The reason I couldn’t find any women I was interested in is because I’m not interested in women at all. I’m interested in men.”

“You’re interested in men?” his dad repeats. When Dean nods, John laughs bitterly. “Well, that’s great, son,” he says sarcastically, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. “But I don’t see how that changes anything.”

Of all the responses he expected, being outwardly dismissed wasn’t one of them and it renders him speechless all over again. 

“What do you mean it doesn’t change anything?” his mom asks.

“You can be attracted to men all you want, but you still have to marry a woman.”

Dean blanches, finally able to find his voice. “What?”

“How will the Prince sire an heir for the kingdom in a homosexual relationship?” his dad barks at him. 

Dean can only open and close his mouth stupidly, unable to launch into the explanation he had planned about Sam and Jess because he’s caught so off-guard by his dad speaking to him like he’s nothing more than a smear on the bottom of his shoe.

“That’s enough,” his mom says, looking murderous. “How dare you speak to him like that? He’s not just the prince, John, he’s our son!”

“And _as_ our son, it’s his duty to keep the royal bloodline alive,” he says evenly.

“And that’s more important to you than his happiness?” Mary argues.

“I’m the King,” John says cooly. He doesn’t sound necessarily happy or proud of it, but actually says the words, “There’s nothing more important than my kingdom.”

Internally, Dean’s crushed. He wants to curl into a ball and cry. He wants to cry for the little boy who grew up idol-worshiping his dad, the King, who was always so fancy and powerful, who protected the good people and dealt with the bad. Now that man has a chance to make his son’s life filled with love and happiness and he won’t even entertain the idea. He feels like a part of him just fucking died.

“There’s _your family,”_ his mom points out. “And just in case your head is so far up your own arse that you’ve forgotten—”

“Mary,” John growls.

“Don’t you _Mary_ me,” she says back, not backing down even a little bit. “You’re lucky that’s all I’m saying! You have _two_ sons, _Your Majesty,”_ she sneers _._ “One of them is telling you he’s attracted to men, that being with a man is what would make him happy, and you’re being so short-sighted that you’ve failed to remember you have a second son who’s been smitten with the same woman since before he hit puberty! Sam will have children with Jessica Moore. _He_ can carry on the Winchester bloodline.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” John says.

Mary raises her eyebrows in a silent, _You wanna bet?_ that a smarter man would cower from. His dad is not that man. “And why’s that?”

“Because the contract with the Angels has already been signed. If Dean is unwilling to marry Princess Castielle because of his sexual orientation, of course, that’s his choice. You know as well as I do that I can’t force him to enter into a marriage.”

“Good thing,” Mary says pointedly. He can tell by her smug tone of voice that she thinks she’s won this, but the look on his father’s face tells him differently, and his stomach twists with nerves while he waits for the other shoe to drop.

“But a Winchester is marrying her either way, and Sam’s the next one in line.”

Annnnd there it is.

“And if Sam refuses?” Mary asks. 

“He won’t,” John says firmly. Dean’s heart sinks to his stomach when he takes note of the surety in his dad’s tone of voice. Clearly, the King knows something they don’t know. “Because Sam’s worshiped Dean since the day he was born, and if he knows that by agreeing to marry Princess Castielle that Dean will be off the hook...” 

His dad lets the sentence end there, but both Dean and his mom know exactly what he isn’t saying. Sammy will say yes just to spare Dean. Sammy, who’s already had his first kiss and first love, who knows exactly what he would be missing out on, would absolutely, 100% say yes just so that Dean doesn’t have to.

Which means Dean’s going to have to do the same to save Sam before Sam gets the chance. At least Dean won’t know what he’s missing. 

“No,” Dean says. His voice is barely above a whisper because his throat is as dry as a desert, but it turns both of his parents’ heads towards him anyway. “Don’t—don’t do that to Sam. I’ll do it. I’ll marry the Princess of the Land of the Angels, but I want my own contract first.”

“Dean,” his mom warns softly.

But he shakes his head, an icy rage the only thing keeping him from breaking eye contact with his dad. 

“What are your terms?” his dad asks him.

“I want it in writing that when I marry her, you never ask Sam to marry for anything but love. Ever. You give him your blessing for whoever he wants to marry, whether it’s Jessica or a servant or a homeless person off of the street. I don’t care if the castle walls are crumbling to dust, you still don’t get a say in his marriage.” Then, as it occurs to him, he adds, “And nobody in this room _ever_ tells him why I agreed to this.”

“In exchange for your word that you’ll do whatever you’re physically capable of in order to get the Princess pregnant with the future heir,” John says, not even blinking. 

How the fuck he’s ever going to have sex with a woman long enough to make a baby is beyond him, but it’s something he’s willing to figure out if that means Sam can be happy. “Deal. Write it up.”

As his father reaches for a fresh piece of royal letterhead and a pen, his mom grabs his hand and pulls Dean’s attention back to her. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to do this. He can’t force either one of you to marry somebody. The contract he signed without your permission means nothing.”

“Sam will cave though,” he says quietly. “If dad gets him alone and brings this up, he’ll agree before we can stop him and tell him not to.”

“We can go to him now,” his mom says. “The two of us together—”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” John interrupts. “Sam is currently being escorted to his room by Rufus, who is under direct orders not to let anybody in but me.”

“Excuse me?” Mary asks. “You can’t keep me away from him! I’m his mother!”

“And I’m the King, and my word supersedes yours in this castle and in this kingdom.”

He’s never seen his parents fight like this before, and as much as he’s seen his dad be a dick more times than he can count, he’s _never_ seen his mom and dad so divided on something. It makes him feel like a child all over again, and a huge part of him wishes he could run out of this room and pull his blankets up over his head until it all goes away. 

That’s not what he does, though. What he actually does is square his shoulders and try to come to his mom’s defense the way she’s been jumping to his since the second they walked in this room.

“Dad, come on,” he tries. “You guys are a team.”

“Not right now we’re not,” his mom declares, looking straight at her husband with a fiery stare. His dad doesn’t even blink, and Dean’s chest feels uncomfortably tight when he sees his mom’s eyes glass over with unshed tears. “You promised me the day we agreed to marry that you’d never pull rank on me like this when it came to our children.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” John says quietly, and Dean’s stomach sours when he notices his dad doesn’t even have it in him to look ashamed. 

His mom shakes her head. “I will never forgive you for this, John.” Though her voice is nothing more than a whisper, it drives a spike of fear and sadness so deep into his own heart he doesn’t know how his dad stays upright when he hears it. She turns to Dean then, her eyes so full of grief an involuntary sob escapes him when he sees it. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

He blinks back his tears, swallows down the lump in his throat, and lies through his teeth. “I’m gonna be okay, ma. Not like I know what I’m missing out on anyway.”

She breathes out a wet sigh, her eyes turning red from how hard she’s trying to hold in her tears. “A small mercy is that at least you’ll never know what it feels like to have your heart broken,” she tells him, and out of the corner of his eyes, he finally sees his dad flinch. Selfishly, he hopes it hurt like hell. “Forgive me, Dean, but I need a moment alone.”

“Yeah, of course, mom.” 

He stands to open the door for her, and he’s never held more respect for a single person, dead or alive, than he does for his mom when she stands with her head held high and turns her back on her husband, the King of the Hunters, without sparing him a single glance.

He and his dad don’t exchange a word while his dad finishes drawing up the contract in duplicate, and although his dad keeps telling him to just sign it already once it’s prepared, Dean takes his time and makes sure he reads every word over three different times before he finally prepares to sign his name on the dotted line. 

It’s only when he picks up the pen that his father finally speaks. “You need to be a good husband to Princess Castielle, Dean. You need to be kind and loving, and you need to be faithful to her. We don’t have a large kingdom, and the people here will know if you’re not. Something like that will only bring about suspicion and doubt, and before you’ll have any hope of stopping it, you’ll lose any respect you ever had, and with it, your power.”

Just when he thought his dad couldn’t fall any further in his eyes. He really thinks Dean would do that to somebody? What’s Dean ever done to give him that impression? He’s genuinely insulted by the insinuation. 

“I’m not going to be a jerk to some poor woman who doesn’t want this any more than I do,” Dean tells him. “It’s not her fault our parents forced us into this. I’ll do what I can to make her happy.”

It looks like his dad is about to say something, probably to argue with him about his choice of words, but he looks away and visibly calms himself before he speaks again. “The signed contracts were sent away this morning, and Princess Castielle left her kingdom then in a sign of good faith. It’s just shy of two days worth of travel, so I expect Princess Castielle will be here with her chaperone before the end of the day tomorrow.” By gods, his dad sure as hell isn’t giving him anytime to change his mind. “The wedding will be one week from today. Some of the carpets will be replaced and the furniture in the sitting room reupholstered tomorrow, but all of that has already been arranged. I have a team of people in place to prepare the chapel for your wedding, and the tailor will be by to take measurements and get you fitted for your attire. Other than the Princess, that’s all you need to worry about; everything else is being handled for your wedding.” 

He’s not sure why he’s surprised by any of this. Why _would_ he get a say in the wedding when he doesn’t even get a say in the fucking bride? 

“The King of the Angels asked to be escorted here for the wedding by both your mother and I personally, so we’ll be leaving for the journey along with four of our best men before Princess Castielle arrives.” _Good luck getting mom to go with you now,_ Dean thinks, but he knows enough to keep that thought to himself. “I’m trusting you to show her to her room, get her comfortable within the castle, and ultimately win her over before I return. This should not appear to be an arranged marriage to the outside eye.”

Dean nods, too shocked by how quickly all of this is moving to say much of anything. “From what I was able to have translated, I understand the Princess has a very serious nature. She’s quiet. Old fashioned. She likes flowers, nature, and books, and dislikes anything flashy. I trust you will take this into consideration when you meet her,” he says sternly. “You’ve sat in on enough meetings with me to understand the importance of a good first impression.”

He feels a little bit more of his spirit die with every word his dad says, but he uses the final dregs of what he has left to sass his father the only way he thinks he’ll be able to get away with.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Dean says blandly. 

His dad frowns, and he knows his dig hit its mark. “I never wanted it to come to this, Dean,” his dad says quietly. “I’m not trying to hurt you, here.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Dean says back. 

Apparently, even the King of the Hunters has no response to that. 

So with two wobbly signatures, Dean seals his own miserable fate, promising to spend his life with a woman he knows he’ll never love for the sake of his brother and his kingdom. He doesn’t manage half the dignity his mom had when he walks out of the room and away from the man he knows he’ll never again think of as a father, but at least he makes it to the hallway before the tears start streaming silently down his face. 

He’s face down on his stripped bed with sobs wracking his entire frame when a terrible truth occurs to him: you don’t have to know what love feels like to experience a broken heart, after all. A heart can break for what will never be, too. And _son of a bitch,_ does it hurt.


	3. Chapter 3

When the next day rolls around, Dean’s feeling better about his impending fate. Honestly, he’s starting to feel like he might have been a little dramatic about the whole thing, but his saving grace is that he got his shit together around dinner and managed to catch his mom to say goodbye before she left. He asked if she was still okay to go with how things were between her and his dad, and she assured him that she could handle herself, and added in a whisper that maybe the time alone would give her a chance to talk some sense into his father’s head.

He doesn’t necessarily feel optimistic about that, but it’s comforting to know that his mom’s going to keep fighting for him the whole time she’s gone. Hell, maybe his dad will give in just to make his mom shut up considering they’ll be stuck in a carriage together for four days straight.

A man can dream.

He doesn’t know where it started, but word of a foreign visitor showing up has spread throughout the castle today, so it’s been a flurry of activity inside and outside. People are coming and going, there’s extra cleaning crew (which Jo is ordering around like _she’s_ the queen of the castle), and he’s been fielding questions right, left, and center in between having his measurements taken for new clothes, his hair cut and styled, and all of his shoes shined. 

Sam’s been on his case about why a stranger is suddenly showing up at the exact same time their parents left, but Dean keeps brushing him off and giving him jobs to do so he’s too busy to keep pestering him. Sam will find out soon enough, and hopefully when he does, it’ll be from somebody other than Dean and Dean won’t have to look at his big, sad puppy dog eyes.

By the time the extra staff have cleared out, he’s more than earned himself a quiet dinner. He takes his meal in his bedroom to avoid being cornered by anybody, and learns from Rufus that the castle is now closed to visitors until the Princess shows up. He feels bad he didn’t get a chance to warn Charlie, who has started just popping over whenever she can get away from Moondoor, but there’s nothing he can do about that now. Once he’s finished eating what little his nervous stomach will allow him to, he goes through the motions of dressing in some of his finest clothes.

He knows exactly what his parents would have wanted him to wear, so even though he always feels a little bit like Peter Pan in this outfit, he puts on a long, emerald green, velvet shirt. It has a v-neck, golden stitching, and a matching loose-knit, decorative golden scarf that he wears over his shoulder and ties like a sash. 

There’s a wide brown belt with a belt buckle embossed with the Hunters crest that goes around his waist, and honestly, the brown “slacks” are so stretchy and tight they might as well be a second skin. (They’re insanely comfortable and he only complains about them because every other man he knows does. Secretly, he’s actually pretty fond of them. They’re so stretchy!) He adds the leather boots that go up to his knees, and after using some hairspray to style his hair how _he_ likes it (windswept, like he just got in from a fast ride with Baby) instead of how the hairdresser did it, he deems himself officially ready to meet his bride-to-be. 

As he checks himself out in the mirror, he comes to the conclusion he looks damn good, and he hopes the Princess thinks so, too. He might not be attracted to women, but that doesn’t mean Princess Castielle shouldn’t like what she sees. He even went out of his way to snip a long-stemmed rose from the garden for her. He knows the princess likes flowers, so he figures he might as well make the most out of a shitty situation. Like his dad said, a good first impression can’t hurt.

Though he isn’t expecting the Princess for a few hours, nerves twist in his stomach when there’s a knock on his door. 

“Come in,” he hollers from where he’s standing in front of the mirror. 

“A carriage just showed up, Your Highness,” Bobby tells him. 

“Already?” Dean asks. “Do you know if it’s her?”

Bobby shrugs. “Ain’t expectin’ anybody else, are ya?”

“True,” he realizes. 

“It’s a right fancy one, too,” Bobby tells him. “Ain’t nothin’ like I’ve ever seen before.”

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, then.” He follows Bobby down the hallway and past the sitting room, then walks down the corridor that leads to the front of the castle. “I know you usually check the carriage first, but my dad drilled into my head how important it was to make a good first impression before he left, so I think I better do it myself.”

Bobby’s lips twitch, and Dean knows the expression well enough to know Bobby’s thinking about how much risk is involved. “You open the carriage door and step back, far enough that I can get a look inside from the castle door, then you help her out. If you see _anything_ other than a princess and a chaperone, you hit the ground, ya hear?”

 _That_ will make a great impression. But he knows this is a big deal for Bobby to potentially put the future king at risk, so he nods anyway. He reaches for the doorknob at the exact same time as the sound of the doorbell rings through the castle.

He and Bobby exchange a look of surprise. “Guess we don’t gotta worry about you hittin’ the ground after all,” Bobby says. Then, more quietly, “Good luck marryin’ a dame _that_ impatient.”

Dean snorts a laugh, but then quickly sobers up, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. He takes one final deep breath to steel himself, then pulls open the front door of the castle. 

To see two men standing there. 

There’s a short guy with his hair slicked back and grown down past his ears (almost as bad as Sam’s long locks, but not quite), and a taller guy all decked out in navy blue fabric and jewels that look like they cost more than everything Dean owns combined. The tall guy’s got shoulder pads that look like wings over his poncho-like jacket and what Dean recognizes as the Angels crest on his chest, and Dean realizes a beat too late that the Princess must have brought _two_ chaperones instead of one. That explains why the taller dude looks built enough to pass for a royal guard. 

“Oh! Hey! Is the Princess still waiting in the carriage for me?” he asks. 

The taller man’s head tilts in confusion, reminding him of some kind of bird, and the little guy says, “I’m sorry, what?”

“The Princess?” Dean repeats, not understanding why they don’t know what he’s talking about. “You’re from the Land of the Angels, right?”

“Obviously,” the little guy answers. 

What the hell is the hold up then? “So where’s Princess Castielle if she’s not in the carriage?”

The tall guy just keeps squinting like he can’t see a foot in front of his face, though his hands have moved to his hips in what Dean takes an impatient gesture, and the little guy looks confused for about three seconds. It's long enough for Dean to wonder if maybe they don’t understand English all that well, but then a bark of laughter escapes the shorter of the two. 

_“Gabriel,”_ the squinting dude chastises, and _holy shit_ that’s a deep voice. 

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel says through a laugh, not sounding sorry in the least. “I think somebody got their wires crossed here.”

“We’re not standin’ here with the door open all damn day,” Bobby growls. “Is she comin’ or not?” Dean’s glad Bobby jumped in and spoke before him, because he’s not even sure he could have been _that_ polite. This Gabriel guy has been here for less than a minute and he’s already on his nerves. 

_“Princess_ Castielle doesn’t exist.” Dean opens his mouth to ask what the fuck he’s talking about, but that’s when the little guy draws himself up to his full height and announces, “Allow me to formally introduce Castiel Novak, His Royal Highness of the Land of the Angels.” 

_Castielle is a Prince?_

Gabriel bows towards the taller man standing next to him, and _now_ the Royal Crest on his shirt makes a different kind of sense. Castielle is a _Prince!_ Dean’s jaw drops before he can stop it, and he looks over at the taller man—Castiel?—more closely. He’s got crazy blue eyes, dark hair perfectly tousled in the front, a strong jaw, and pink lips. He has his hands on his hips, his head held high like royalty with his gaze trained somewhere over Dean’s shoulder, and Dean can’t help but notice the breadth of his shoulders and his sturdy frame. He’s tall, too, almost as tall as himself, and when Castiel’s eyes finally flick down to meet his, Dean would swear to the gods above his heart legitimately stops. 

This man is _gorgeous._

And sure as fuck not a woman. 

“I-It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” he manages to say, only briefly stuttering in his shock. “I’m Dean Winchester, Prince of the Hunters, and I’m honored to welcome you to our kingdom. I’m sorry for the confusion. I know you’ve traveled far and long to be here, so please, come in.”

He stands back and gestures for them to enter the castle, which Castiel does with Gabriel following behind him. 

“Not bad for a recovery,” Gabriel quips under his breath as he walks past. 

Dean can’t quite hold in a quiet huff of laughter as he closes the door behind them. “Quite honestly, I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on here,” he admits. “Would you like to join me in the sitting room so we can discuss it where we’ll be more comfortable?”

Prince Castiel only nods, but Gabriel says, “This oughta be good.”

He leads the way with the rose still held stupidly in his hand and Bobby trailing behind him, wincing internally at the thought of the newcomers’ dirty shoes all over the new carpet. He only makes it a few steps before he’s sure he can _feel_ a burning gaze on his back. He looks over his shoulder only to see Castiel flick his eyes away quickly, and he feels his face warm up from the thought of Castiel taking an interest in what he looks like. Before he gets ahead of himself though, he better find out if he’s what Castiel was hoping for or if they were both expecting the opposite sex. 

“Please, make yourselves comfortable. I know you’ve had a long journey. Would either of you like refreshments? Or we can have a meal prepared if you’d prefer?”

Gabriel shakes his head, but Castiel says, “Tea would be welcome if it’s no trouble.”

Dean looks to Bobby, who seems reluctant to leave the room, but does so after Dean urges him by lifting his eyebrows. 

“No trouble at all,” Dean assures him. “So, let’s get down to it, shall we?”

“You were expecting a woman. A princess,” Castiel says, cutting right through the bullshit in a way Dean definitely admires. Although now that Castiel is meeting his gaze head on, he has to admit attempting to think through Castiel’s piercing stare is challenging. 

“Yeah,” Dean says sheepishly. Sweet gods, he’s _blushing._ He can actually feel his face getting warmer the longer they hold eye contact, and he feels like an _idiot_ for it. They may be engaged to be married, but right now, they’re just talking. He needs to get a freaking grip. “My dad told me that your kingdom and ours were corresponding through letters. There was a contract signed by both of our fathers saying that I’m to marry the Princess of the Angels, in exchange for money from your kingdom and soldiers from ours.” Gabriel and Castiel exchange a glance, and Gabriel’s face breaks out in a big grin. Clearly, they know something he doesn’t. “What?”

“I’m gonna wager a guess that The King doesn’t actually speak Enochian, does he?” Gabriel asks. 

“Well, no,” Dean admits. “He said he was doing the translating himself.”

“That probably explains it, then. We don’t use a lot of gendered terms in formal writings,” Gabriel tells him. “Prince and Princess is the same written down because to us, gender is irrelevant.”

“Gender is irrelevant?” Dean echoes. 

“Yep. Potato, po-tah-to," Gabriel says. "A prince and a princess hold the same status. It makes no difference in our neck of the woods."

Dean frowns, trying to let that sink in. If gender is irrelevant, how is he supposed to know how to refer to Castiel? 

“But you consider yourself a Prince?” he asks Castiel. 

“I _am_ a Prince,” Castiel corrects.

“Okay,” Dean says slowly. “I should introduce you as Prince Castiel, though? And His Highness instead of Her?”

“That’s correct. And just to be perfectly clear so you know exactly what you’re agreeing to from here on out, I’m a male when it comes to anatomy as well,” Castiel tells him. That certainly clears _that_ up, and it also makes his face start burning at the very idea of what Castiel is alluding to. Castiel is _all male,_ and Dean should absolutely _not_ let his mind wander down that path in present company. “Considering you were expecting a woman, is that going to be a problem for you?”

“To be totally honest, Castiel—” Castiel frowns, and he automatically amends, “I beg your pardon. Your Highness, this works out _realms_ better than if you were a woman.” He glances at the door to make sure Bobby isn’t back yet, and adds, “Please don’t mention it in front of the guards yet, but I only recently discovered I’m exclusively attracted to men. Only my parents and my brother know at this time.” 

“And yet you had agreed to marry a woman?” Castiel asks, not even blinking at the secret he’s only told to four other people in his entire life. 

“I was willing to sacrifice my own needs for the good of the castle, yes.” Because he doesn’t want to concentrate on that portion of the problem, he flashes his megawatt smile and tries to introduce some humor to the situation. “But I’m sure you can understand how pleasantly surprised I am by the current events.” 

“I see,” is all Castiel says back. 

Huh. That smile almost _always_ works on people, but Castiel didn’t even react. Maybe... Is it possible...? “Were, uh, were you expecting a Princess too?”

“I was not,” Castiel replies. “I am also exclusively attracted to men, as you put it.”

 _Holy shit!_ There’s not a single hint of emotion in Castiel’s voice to make him believe he has a chance with him, but who cares? They’re both gay, Castiel is hot, and they’re engaged to be married! This couldn’t have worked out any better than if he planned it. 

“So you’re not disappointed, either, then,” he says happily.

“Didn’t hear him say _that,”_ Gabriel points out, and Dean feels his newfound excitement deflate like a balloon because Gabriel’s right. 

Castiel certainly doesn’t _seem_ happy about this. Though it’s a struggle, he manages to keep his back straight, but he’s unable to stop the way he drops his gaze to look at the ground instead of at Castiel directly as the reality of the situation crashes down around him. Maybe Castiel doesn’t find him attractive? That would fucking _suck._

 _“Gabriel,”_ Castiel snaps, chastising him once more. “Please forgive my cousin, Your Highness. No amount of etiquette classes have been able to teach him to hold his tongue.” 

If he didn’t feel like he just got rejected from the first man he’s looked at and _known_ he was attracted to, he might find some humor in that. Instead, he battles to keep his voice even.

“‘Kay,” he says quietly, still looking at the floor while he works to compose himself. 

Castiel clears his throat, pulling his gaze back up to him. He notices Castiel’s cheeks look more flushed than they were a moment ago, and Dean’s undeniably endeared by the sight. “From what little we’ve seen, your castle is... rustic, but charming.” Dean tries to hide his surprise at hearing the newly reupholstered furniture in the sitting room is still considered ‘rustic’ to Prince Castiel. “I’m sure it goes without saying that you’re an attractive man, Your Highness, but my affections aren’t typically won over because of that alone. I look forward to getting to know you better.” Dean nods, perking up slightly now that Castiel said he’s attractive. “I don’t want you to have the impression that I’m... disappointed,” he adds quietly. 

_Oh,_ he’s cute. He’s really, really cute when he’s blushing just as hard as Dean is, and although he has no idea what he could possibly do to put him at ease, his hands itch with the need to do just that. He licks his lips nervously, and—

“Aww,” Gabriel coos. 

Dean presses his lips together to keep from laughing, and Castiel rolls his eyes so dramatically, he finds himself smiling before he can stop it. The dynamic between Castiel being so serious and Gabriel cracking jokes like they’re going out of style is absolutely hilarious, and as much as he wants to get to know Castiel better on his own, he hopes he gets to see a lot of these two together, too. 

He sees Jo peek around the corner to see if she should come in, and he knows the exact moment she realizes there’s no princess in the room, but he nods to let her know she should come in anyway. She places the old wooden tray onto the table in the middle of the room silently, then curtsies in a way she doesn’t just for him anymore, and walks away shooting an inquisitive look over her shoulder. 

“Are you having tea, Your Highness?” Castiel asks him. 

“Please call me Dean,” Dean tells him. “I’m not all that fond of tea. I much prefer coffee.”

“You’ll make your guest drink alone?” Castiel asks, his eyes widening slightly with his silent plea. 

He’s _adorable,_ and apparently all it’s going to take is one look for Dean to accept some tea after all. “I guess that wouldn’t make me much of a host,” he says begrudgingly, and for the first time, he thinks he sees a hint of a smile around Castiel’s mouth. It makes him look about a hundred times more friendly, and he’s absolutely positive he’s never wanted to see a full smile more. Distracted by his thoughts, he slips back into the way he usually talks. “Want me to pour or whatever?” Gabriel snorts a laugh and Dean winces at his mistake before he decides to just own it. “Full disclosure, Your Highness, I can fake it well enough on occasion, but the truth is, my etiquette lessons never really stuck either.”

“A ha!” Gabriel exclaims. “I knew I was gonna like you!”

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m used to Gabriel, then. I’m almost certain it’s impossible to be more crass than he is,” Castiel says. “Besides, I’m more than happy to pour. This is a lovely tea set.”

“Wish my mom was here to hear that, she loves this thing. A family heirloom, according to her,” Dean divulges. “She’s got a couple of fancy sets we use for guests.”

Castiel nods his interest, then asks, “Honey or sugar in your tea?” 

“Sugar. And please don’t be stingy.” 

Castiel adds three hefty spoonfuls and Dean’s so captivated by Castiel’s large but still elegant hands, he barely remembers to mutter his thanks once Castiel passes him the saucer. 

He waits for Castiel to settle back into his chair and then slides into small-talk mode, asking him about his journey and if they ran into any trouble on their way here. Castiel speaks at length at how quaint the kingdom is, and Dean tries to remember what he knows of The Land of the Angels to mentally compare what Castiel is leaving behind in order to marry him. He only has a vague sense of the Angels being rich, hence Castiel’s fancy clothes, and decides that will be a better topic to discuss over a meal sometime rather than delving too far into it now.

Once they’ve finished their tea, Dean asks, “Would you like a tour of the inside of the castle, or would you like to retire to your rooms for the evening?”

“To our rooms, I think,” Castiel decides. “We’ve had a very long couple of days.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Dean says, standing at once. “Allow me to show you the way.” When Castiel stands as well, he leads the way but slows down so that they fall into pace side by side. “We’ve left everything we could think of in your rooms to keep you both comfortable before you settle in for good, but if there’s anything at all you need, I hope you won’t hesitate to ask.”

“I’m sure you’ve thought of everything,” Castiel replies. 

Dean gestures to the doors as they walk past the dining room and kitchen, explaining each one as he goes. “You’ve probably noticed our castle isn’t all that big. I know it’s likely not what you’re used to in any shape or form, and you have my apologies for it. Unfortunately, that also means you’ll be at the back of the castle sharing the corridor with the live-in help we have.”

“That’s fine,” Castiel says, and to his credit, he sounds like he means it. “If we require assistance, at least we’ll have people nearby to help.”

Dean looks over at him and waits for Castiel to return eye contact. “Thanks for being so nice about all this. I know it’s pretty shabby.”

“It’s not,” Castiel insists. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, and I really do find your kingdom and your castle charming.”

“I’m glad,” Dean says sincerely. “I know it’s probably hard to leave your castle, your kingdom, and your home behind, but I hope in time you can be happy here.”

Castiel’s mouth tilts up at the corners again, and he replies, “Thank you. I’m sure I will be.”

As they approach the two guest rooms, Dean points to the first. “This one here’s the smallest, so I figure—”

“That puppy’s got my name written all over it,” Gabriel says. “Let me know if you need me, Cas. Pleasure to meet you, Your Highness”

And with that, Gabriel ducks into his room and shuts the door in his face, leaving an abrupt silence between him and Castiel. 

“Again, I apologize for my—”

“Don’t bother,” Dean interrupts. “He’s totally fine, I swear. And I get the feeling most of what we say to one another is going to be you apologizing for him if you do it every time he toes the line.” With that, he opens the door to Castiel’s room and steps inside. “This is your bed, obviously. This door here’s the closet for any clothes that need to be hung, and anything else you want to unpack now can go in the wardrobe. This here’s the bathroom,” he says, pushing open the door so he can see. “There’s a shower, but no tub in here. You’re free to use mine if you want, though, I’ll just clear out and give you the space for however long you need it.” Castiel nods, so he plows on. “Towels are stacked by the sink so you shouldn’t run out. Got all the soaps, shampoo, and that kind thing all in there, too.” He spins, trying to think if there’s anything else he missed. “Uhm, there’s some spare blankets if you need them in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe.” He rubs at the back of his neck nervously. “That’s everything I can think of. Any questions?”

“What time is breakfast served?” Castiel asks.

“Oh.” He needs to actually eat breakfast in the dining room, doesn’t he? “I, uh, whenever’s fine with me. Do you have a preference?”

“Would nine be agreeable?”

“Yeah, that works,” Dean says. Hell, he would’ve agreed to six if he had to, though he’s glad it didn’t come to that. 

“Should I expect company other than yours?” Castiel wonders.

“My younger brother, Sam. He’ll want to meet you, but you don’t need to dress up for him or anything. He’s 16, and when my dad isn’t around, we like to be as informal as we can get away with.”

“And your brother knows? About your newly discovered preferences?”

Fuck, he wishes that didn’t make him blush. He’s been pink in the face so frequently since Castiel arrived, the Prince is going to think he has a condition or something. “Yeah. He was the first person I told.”

“Okay. I think I have everything I need. Thank you, Your Highness.”  
  
Dean hears that for the dismissal it is, so he takes a few steps back towards the door before he realizes that he’s been carrying the stupid rose in his hand all this time. 

Since his face is already red, he turns and says, “I, uh, meant to give this to you at the door, but you sorta took my breath away and I forgot.” He holds the rose out to Castiel. “I heard you like flowers, so I thought you might like a rose from our garden.”

Castiel seems struck silent for the first time since they’ve met. Castiel’s looking right at him, head cocked slightly to the side, like if Castiel just looks at him long enough he might be able to figure Dean out, and Dean lasts another five awkward seconds before he drops his hand in embarrassment. Maybe his dad was wrong about the flower thing, or maybe it’s too much too fast, or maybe—

His hand dropping seems to be what spurs Castiel into action, because he finally steps forward and reaches out tentatively to take the rose, bringing their bodies closer together than they have been so far. 

Not that he noticed or anything.

“I suppose learning you’re engaged to marry a man instead of a woman would steal anybody’s breath,” Castiel says carefully.

“Well, yeah,” Dean agrees. “But that’s not what I meant.”

Castiel ducks his head to bury his nose in the rose for a sniff, and if Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think the Prince was being bashful and using it as an excuse to try to hide his reaction. “You’re too kind, Your Highness.”

“Dean,” he repeats softly.

Castiel lifts his head, bright blue piercing him like an arrow through long, thick eye lashes. Castiel smiles then, just a small, sweet little smile all for him, and Dean feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest at the very sight of it. 

“Thank you, Dean.”

 _Oh gods,_ the way Castiel says his name, all low and rough, is enough to make him feel weak in the knees. It must be the sudden lack of oxygen that has him blurting out, “Would it be alright if I came to escort you to the dining room tomorrow morning?”

Castiel nods, seeming pleased by the offer. “I would like that.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” Dean promises. “Sleep well, Your Highness.”

“Goodnight.”

He feels strangely reluctant to leave, but he gently closes the door behind him and releases the goofy, ridiculous grin he’s felt bubbling up under the surface ever since Castiel took the rose from him and smelled it looking like the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He has an insane desire to go cut Castiel a dozen roses to make him a bouquet—no, he’ll bring him a whole fucking rose bush to bury his nose in if it’ll make him happy! 

His grin widens even further as he realizes he already has a crush on the guy he’s supposed to marry. And gods, Castiel is cute. He’s obviously a serious kind of guy, but the way he puts up with Gabriel with unmistakable fondness gives him hope that maybe someday Castiel will feel as fond about putting up with him, too. Wouldn’t that be something? 

“What in the gods’ names has you smilin’ _like that_ after the pile of shit that was just heaped on you?” Bobby asks, scaring the wits out of him.

“Well, Bobby, the realm works in mysterious ways.” Bobby only narrows his eyes, squinting at him like he’s trying to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. “Can you do me a favor and round up Sam, Jo, Ellen, and Rufus, then have everybody meet me in the sitting room?”

“Now?”

“Yes, please! Important castle business,” Dean tells him, faking a serious tone of voice.

“Alright, hold your horses.” 

Less than ten minutes later, he’s sitting where he, Castiel, and Gabriel were gathered not too long ago, surrounded by everybody he loves most except for his parents and Charlie. 

And, of course, every single one of them are yapping at the same time. 

“Alright, alright, settle down, ya hooligans,” Dean calls out to the room. “The King isn’t here, so that means I’m in charge, and boy oh boy, do I have some news for you.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Sam laughs. “But are you finally going to tell us who came to the castle today and why?”

“That’s a damn good place to start, Sammy,” he decides. “I was informed yesterday that The King has an arrangement with the Land of the Angels. I can’t go into details, but the bare bones of it is that I agreed to marry their Princess, Castielle, in order to better our kingdom.” He ignores the skeptical look from Sam and continues, “You saw everybody and their dog in the castle getting things ready for her arrival earlier today, and some of you saw that our guests arrived a little less than an hour ago.”

“Yeah, with no Princess in sight,” Jo comments. 

“What?” Sam asks. “Who was it then?”

“Nobody was more surprised than me when two men showed up at our door, and I realized Castiel was a Prince instead of a Princess.”  
  
“Wait, what? How did _that_ happen?” Jo asks.

“Apparently Enochian is finicky in writing when it comes to gender, so my dad thought I was agreeing to marry a Princess when it was actually a Prince.”

“So is the whole thing off, Your Highness?” Ellen questions. “Because I’ve already got people harping on me about a menu for the wedding and I’d like nothin’ more than to tell ‘em where to shove it.”

“Not if I can help it,” Dean admits. 

“Whoah, whoah, whoah—you’re gonna marry a guy?” Jo asks, her face screwed up in confusion. 

“Kinda hope so,” Dean says quietly. And this is the moment of truth. He takes a deep breath, and says, “Especially since I just figured out the reason I’ve been having such a hard time deciding on a woman to court is because I’m only into men.” 

For the first time since they’ve all been gathered together, there’s dead silence from the whole room. His heart starts racing and he’s about to ask if anybody has a problem with that when Sam speaks up.

“Do you think that Castiel being a male instead of a female voids the contract dad made?”

“Nah,” Dean answers. Though really, he has no idea other than what he agreed to. “He wrote it in Enochian, and just because he doesn’t know what he wrote doesn’t mean it isn’t valid. It was a mistake on his part that’s hopefully going to make things for Castiel and I a hell of a lot easier.”

“Did Castiel know he was agreeing to marry a man?” Sam asks next. 

“Yup,” Dean says, smiling now. 

“You know The King’s going to hit the roof when he comes back,” Bobby guesses. 

“Well, that isn’t really my problem,” Dean decides. “I’m doing what I said I’d do, what he _told me_ to do, and he’ll still be getting exactly what he wanted out of the agreement he made. As far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on in order to break the contract.”

“And you... you really want to marry a man, son?” Bobby checks. 

Dean does, and he’s more sure now that he’s met Castiel than he's ever been. “I really do.”

“Guess that explains the dopey smile after all,” Bobby says under his breath. 

“That gonna be a problem for you?” Dean asks him. 

“No disrespect, Your Highness, but I care about what your other half has between his legs about as much as I care about what’s in between yours, and that‘s _none.”_

“Rufus?” Dean checks. 

Rufus shakes his head. “My orders were to keep an eye on you and the visitors from the Land of the Angels, and that’s what I’m going to do. If The King has new orders when he comes back...” He frowns. “Well, I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

He’s not sure how he feels about that, but seeing as there’s nothing else he can do about it now, he turns towards Ellen and Jo. 

“Anybody else?” 

“If marryin’ a Prince is what’s going to make you happy, Your Highness, I’m in your corner,” Ellen declares. “Just hope he don’t eat like you do,” she jokes, and it’s the familiar back and forth that has him really feeling at ease. Nothing’s changed here, and he didn’t know until right now how worried he was about that possibility. 

“I already told you I don’t care about who’s gay or not,” Jo says. “But I will say you got _really_ lucky in the prince department. He sure isn’t hard to look at.”

“Joanna! What’s the matter with you?” Ellen says, clearly scandalized. “They’re engaged to be married!”

“I’m just saying!” Jo shrugs innocently.

“She’s not wrong, either,” Dean agrees. He can feel his face turning pink just from admitting it, and he wonders how long _that’s_ going to last. If he blushes every time he thinks about those baby blue eyes of Castiel’s or how incredibly cute he looked with that rose in his hands he’s going to have a real problem. He shakes his head to clear it and pins Jo with an even look. “But hands off or I’ll have you out on your ear.”

Jo snorts a laugh, but she’s still getting stared down by Ellen so he’s not surprised she doesn’t say anything back. He’s sure it’s a topic they’ll dive back into when Ellen’s not around, though.

“What’s he like?” Sam asks, pulling him from that train of thought.

“Didn’t get too much time to find out since he was beat from two days on the road, but he seems nice. Kind. Said some nice things about the castle and took the whole, ‘I thought you were going to be a woman’ thing really well,” he shrugs, trying to downplay just how excited he is about the potential here. “Honestly, he could’ve been Bobby’s twin and it would’ve been better than marrying a woman, so I’m just happy I have a chance to actually legitimately fall for the person I’m going to be with for the rest of my life.”

“I’m just gonna go on ahead and pretend I didn’t hear that,” Bobby grumbles, which makes him laugh. “Anything else, Your Highness?”

“Other than the obvious part of keeping what happens inside these walls inside these walls, that’s all I’ve got. Oh!” he says as he remembers. “Prince Castiel wants to have breakfast at nine,” he tells Ellen. “Sam and I will join him and his chaperone, Gabriel, in the dining room, so please go ahead and make enough for four. Traditional Hunter Breakfast, please.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ellen nods.

“And Castiel likes tea, so prepare that along with coffee every morning for the foreseeable future.”

“You got it.”

“And Ellen,” he adds. “We’re trying to impress him, so feel free to pull out all the stops.”

“I’ll make sure that boy is eatin’ outta the palm of your hand,” she promises with a wink.

“You’re all dismissed, and I thank you for your service, blah, blah, blah.” 

He waits until everybody files out, then Sam falls into step next to him as he goes to return to his bedroom to get out of these damn clown clothes.

“You know dad’s never going to allow this if he wanted you to marry a woman,” Sam tells him.

He ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach at the reminder. “Well, like Rufus said, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Dean replies. “He won’t be back for almost a week, so I can at least enjoy myself until then.”

There’s a comfortable silence while they continue to walk the corridors until Sam says, “Do you think you can be happy with this Castiel guy?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I’ve had dinner with, what? Thirty different women?”

“Seems like a lot more than that,” Sam retorts.

“Well, however many women there were, other than Charlie, this is the first time I’ve been genuinely interested in getting to know somebody, so there’s that at least.”

“And it’s not just because he’s easy on the eyes?” Sam wonders.

Dean shrugs. “I dunno what it is, but at least I want to figure it out for once.”

“Maybe you’ll actually be able to carry on a conversation without me elbowing you at the table this time,” Sam teases him as he approaches the library.

“Maybe,” Dean agrees. “I’ve already got about a hundred questions I want to ask him.”

“Me, too,” Sam says, surprising him enough that he spins to look at him as he walks by. “What?” Sam calls from just inside the doorway. “The Land of the Angels is basically a different _realm._ They have things we haven’t even thought up yet.”

“See, isn’t that more interesting than whatever art thing Hannah was babbling on about the other day?” Dean says with a grin.

Sam’s grinning back when he says, “I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening.”

Dean closes his door with a laugh, and it doesn’t escape him that both his mood _and_ his future have taken one giant turn for the better since this time last night. 

Hopefully he can keep it that way.


	4. Chapter 4

“I just want to make sure—”

“Out!” Ellen says, shooing him for what must be the fifth time. The only difference is, this time she’s pushed him all the way to the door. “If you want everything done on time then you need to leave me alone and let me do it.” 

“But—”

“One more word and I’ll burn the toast,” she threatens, and well, Dean  _ may _ be stubborn but he’s not stupid. 

The door swings closed behind him and his eyes automatically drift down the hallway towards Prince Castiel’s room. It’s about five to nine, and he doesn’t want to seem too eager, but he also has nothing to do for the next five minutes. He ignores Bobby’s knowing,  _ judging _ look while he paces back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen. He’s dressed in a long-sleeve, cream-colored shirt with a cascade of ruffles that stem from beneath his neck to spill midway down his chest. The shirt is tucked into his dark brown, ankle-length, tapered pants, and he has on fancy cream-colored shoes with a slight heel that make him feel even taller than usual. They’re almost feminine in style, and yet they’re one of his most comfortable, most favorite pairs of shoes. His nerves make it impossible to stop fiddling with the ruffles at his neck, and he earns himself a snort from Bobby when he checks his appearance in the mirror for the third time in as many minutes just to make sure they’re all in order, and then with a minute to spare, he takes off towards Castiel’s room. 

He feels like there’s a whole damn horde of butterflies in his stomach when he lifts his arm to knock, and when Castiel pulls it open and he gets his first look at the man obviously well-rested, it seems like they all try to fly right up out of his throat at the same time. 

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Castiel greets him. 

“Dean,” he manages to choke out. He has to clear his throat afterwards, but that’s okay because it gives him an extra second to take in the sight of the unbelievably handsome man in front of him. 

Castiel is dressed in black slacks with black leather boots that go almost to his knee, with a maroon, collarless shirt that shows off a thickly muscled, tanned neck. The shoulders of the shirt are squared off (shoulder pads again, maybe?) with some kind of black decorative design embroidered onto them that seems to spread down over his back. The sleeves go just past Castiel’s elbows, exposing sinewy forearms that has him wondering if Castiel’s skin tone is this color naturally or if it’s sun-kissed. 

His hair isn’t so coiffed today, instead it’s standing straight up at the front and just slightly curved back at the tips. He looks freshly shaved, and there’s a tantalizing hint of a deeply masculine scent hanging in the air between them that Dean would really like to get a better whiff of. 

“You look incredible,” Dean finally says. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel replies, smoothing down the front of his shirt. “I hope it’s not too casual?”

“There is no such thing as too casual when it comes to me,” Dean assures him. “You hungry?”

“Famished, actually,” Castiel admits. 

“Well, let’s grab Gabriel and head to the dining room, then,” Dean suggests. He gestures for Castiel to step out of his room, and when Castiel closes the door behind him, Dean gets a glimpse of the big, black wings embroidered into the back of his shirt. 

“Wow,” Dean exclaims quietly, admiring the way the wings curve exactly with the set of Castiel’s shoulders. The design makes his shoulders seem even more broad (or maybe that’s the fit of the shirt?) and Dean finds himself captivated by the sight. Castiel turns to face him with a look of confusion. “Oh, sorry. The wings on your shirt are amazing.”

“Thank you. I’m rather fond of them myself.”

“They suit you,” Dean says honestly. He raps his knuckles on Gabriel’s door, calling out, “Rise and shine, short stack!”

“Please don’t encourage his awful manners,” Castiel says quietly. 

Dean shoots him a playful grin. “But that takes all the fun out of it, Your Highness.”

“Well, I suppose we can't have that.”  Castiel looks reluctantly amused, and even the sight of something other than his usual blank expression causes Dean’s heart to soar. 

Just then, Gabriel opens the door, effectively ruining their first easy back-and-forth. “Good morning, Your Highness! Not expecting a battle with Captain Hook today, I see?”

Dean laughs more at his gall than at the joke. “Wouldn’t I feel stupid if he showed his face a day late,” he jests, getting a bark of laughter from Gabriel in return. He starts down the hallway, pleased when Castiel follows at his side instead of behind him. “I trust you both slept well?”

“Very well,” Castiel answers. 

“Slept like a rock, but  _ man _ am I glad to get out of that room,” Gabriel says. 

That pulls Dean up short. “Was there something wrong with it?”

“Of course there wasn’t,” Castiel answers for Gabriel, shooting the other man the kind of sharp look Dean’s received himself a million times. 

“There’s nothing  _ wrong _ with it per say, but seriously, how do you live without a TV?”

It sounds like Gabriel’s asking how to live without air, but Dean has no idea what he’s talking about outside of that. “A TV?” he repeats.

“Television,” Castiel explains. 

“Ohhhh. I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve never had one so I guess I don’t know what I’m missing. It never occurred to me that you might be expecting one or I would have warned you. Sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Castiel insists. “A television is a luxury, not a necessity. Gabriel is merely showing his privilege.” 

“Sorry for being bored,” Gabriel says under his breath. 

“After breakfast I’ll give you a tour of the kingdom,” Dean offers. “We have a library bursting at the seams with an eclectic selection of books, or you can visit the stables, the garden, the pond out back. We even have chickens if you think you might like feeding those,” he teases. 

“You have chickens?” Castiel questions, his eyes going wide. “Real, live chickens?”

Because he doesn’t get why that’s exciting, he quips, “Probably a couple of dead ones in the freezer too if you wanna get really excited.”

Castiel seems delighted. “I’ve only ever seen pictures. I would love the chance to see chickens. The live ones, though,” he adds.

“Well, your wish is my command, then. I’ll be happy to take you after breakfast.” 

Now entering the dining room, he sees Sam is already seated at the table. He watches for Castiel and Gabriel’s reaction to their large, beaten down wooden table with bench seats on either side, but neither of them seem to mind it (or they hide it well). The table is dressed up a little with a fancy table runner Ellen must have pulled out, but he’s sure it’s still nothing like the Land of The Angles have. 

Sam gets to his feet, and Dean starts the spiel to introduce everybody. “Allow me to introduce my little brother, His Royal Highness Sam Winchester of the Hunters,” Dean says to Castiel. “Sammy, this is His Royal Highness Castiel Novak of the Angels.”

They each bow to each other, then Sam surprises him by offering a handshake. It’s even informal for Sam, so he doubts Castiel will take it, but apparently this is a morning full of surprises because Castiel shakes Sam’s hand with no hesitation. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” Sam says. “Welcome to the Land of the Hunters.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. Allow me to introduce my cousin and chaperone, Gabriel,” Castiel says. 

“Hello, Gabriel,” Sam says, reaching for his hand to shake too. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well.”

“Well aren’t  _ you _ a tall drink of water,” Gabriel comments. 

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up so high they almost disappear into his hairline, and Castiel aims a sharp look at Gabriel. “For Heaven’s sake, Gabriel, he’s still a child. Hold your tongue!”

“Is he? He’s tall!” Gabriel defends. 

“He’s 16,” Dean says dryly. “And basically married already, so keep it in your pants or you’ll be eating with the pigs.”

_ “Dean,” _ Sam scolds him. 

“Anyway.” Dean claps his hands once and says, “Now that we’ve all been introduced, let’s have a seat, shall we? You’re next to me,” Dean says to Castiel, gesturing to the spot on the bench he wants Castiel to sit at. 

“Thank you.” Castiel takes his seat, and Dean moves to the teapot to pour him a glass. 

“Tea?”

“That would be wonderful,” Castiel says. Dean pours it for him, getting a tight smile from Castiel for his trouble, and then grabs the carafe of coffee. He pours himself a cup, then knowing Sam won’t drink any, passes it across to Gabriel who inhales the scent of coffee in the air like he can sniff it directly into his brain. “No tea for you today?” Castiel asks.

Dean’s about to tell him he doesn’t really like tea when he looks up and sees the way Castiel’s eyes are shining at him. He’s not smiling, but Dean’s almost positive he’s being teased. By Castiel. “If I say no are you gonna give me the big sad eyes to make me switch again?”

And there it is, a quick flash of a smile that makes his heart leap in his chest. “Of course not. I was merely making conversation.”

“Uh huh,” Dean says, letting him know he doesn’t believe him in the least.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ellen serve tea when mom wasn’t here,” Sam comments. 

“Prince Castiel likes tea,” Dean tells him.

“And flowers?” Sam guesses, gesturing to the bouquet on the table.

Dean shrugs, but looks over at Castiel when he says, “Dean? Did you do this? Arrange for the tea and the flowers?”

“I just wanted you to feel at home,” Dean says.

Castiel seems genuinely touched. “That’s very sweet. Thank you for thinking of me.”

_ Haven’t been able to  _ stop _ thinking about you, _ he thinks, but his cheeks are already feeling too warm and he doesn’t want to make things any worse than they already are. Thankfully, he’s saved having to come up with a coherent response when Jo enters the room with a tray full of fruit. 

“Good morning,” she says to the room in general.

“Your Highness, Gabriel, this is Jo Harvelle. We grew up together, and now she helps us take care of the castle,” Dean says. “She’s got the room right across from yours, Your Highness.”

“Pleased to meet you officially, Miss Harvelle,” Castiel says. “I look forward to picking your brain about what Dean was like as a child.”

Jo’s smile goes from a demure, polite little thing to the real deal in less than two seconds. “With all due respect, Your Highness, the only thing that’s changed about Dean since he was a child is his height.”

“Still a child at heart then,” Castiel deduces.

“You could say that, yes,” Jo agrees. She looks down to the tray she left on the table and says, “Ellen wanted me to tell you the main course will be out in just a few minutes. Your Highness, Gabriel, how would you like your eggs?”

Castiel and Gabriel exchange a look Dean can’t decipher, but before he can ask, Castiel says, “We’ll have ours the same as Dean’s. Thank you.”

“As you wish,” Jo says, then she curtsies again and leaves the room. 

Dean checks out the tray Jo left behind, noticing that they went all out with the presentation. There’s fresh strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, and grapes, and apple, pear, and nectarine slices. There’s two small bowls, one that looks like plain yogurt and another that must be cottage cheese. Sam offers the tray to Castiel first, giving Dean an excuse to watch Castiel as his face lights up like a small child on Christmas morning as he takes a few of everything.

“Fruit lover?” he asks as Sam passes the tray to Gabriel.

“We don’t see fresh fruit very often,” Castiel tells him. “This is a real treat for us.”

He watches Castiel take a bite out of a plump strawberry and feels like he’s watching something that should only take place behind closed doors (preferably with him) when Castiel’s eyes close as if to savor every little bit of flavor. 

“Forgive me my ignorance, Your Highness, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about the Land of the Angels. How is it that you have no shortage of money but lack fresh fruit and chickens?” he wonders.

“That’s a fair question,” Castiel replies, dabbing at his lips with the napkin on his lap. “Something I’ve been asking myself since we drove through the market last night, actually. It’s not that we can’t afford fresh fruit or meat, but I think what it comes down to is that most people in the Land of Angels value convenience over authenticity.”

“Meaning?”

“Most food in the LOA comes pre-packaged,” Gabriel says, popping a grape in his mouth and chowing down. “Lasts longer, cooks faster, and you can stick a bunch of boxes in the freezer and not have to worry about food for months.”

“But those foods also come jammed packed with additives and other things to make them freeze better, and as convenient as it is to have them on hand, it’s nothing compared to this,” Castiel explains, finishing off his strawberry and selecting a slice of nectarine as if to prove his point. 

Boxes of frozen foods sound insane to him, and one glance at Sam tells him his brother’s thinking the same thing, but he figures it isn’t his place to raise a stink about it if it has nothing to do with him. “Well, there’s plenty of fruit where that came from, so don’t be shy.”

“Do you eat like this every day?” Gabriel asks.

Dean looks at Sam, confused again. “Like what?”

“Food served fresh every morning?”

“Well yeah,” Dean says carefully. “How else would you eat?”

“Out of a box?” Gabriel says, as if Dean’s lost his mind.

“The only thing I’ve ever seen Ellen take out of a box is ingredients,” Dean says, and Sam laughs while Gabriel looks at them like they have three heads.

“Amazing what people can accomplish without technology at their fingertips, isn’t it?” Castiel says to Gabriel. “I think the whole thing is charming. I feel quite spoiled, actually,” he admits.

“Get used to it,” Dean tells him. 

Castiel straightens up, his lips turning up slightly at the corners. “This is the new normal, isn’t it?”

“I bet Ellen will be glad to have Dean out of the kitchen,” Sam says.

Castiel’s gaze turns soft again. “Are you used to eating in the kitchen?”

“Better than eating out here at a big table by myself,” Dean tells him. “Ellen, the cook, she’s like my second mom. I’ve spent every day for as far back as I can remember eating what she’s cooked for me.”

“I’m assuming you must have a fridge and stove?” Castiel questions. 

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, unsure why he would ask that. 

“I noticed you have electricity in the castle—lamps that plug in, for example—but you don’t have television. It’s interesting to note which parts of modern technology you’ve adapted to and which ones you haven’t,” Castiel comments. 

“I think it likely comes down to necessity,” Sam says for him. “We found the money and necessary skill to add electricity to the castle and homes in the kingdom because it improved our living conditions, but as much as I’m sure it seems like the realm has come to a stop for you without an internet connection here, we manage just fine without it.”

“It’s almost like going back in time,” Gabriel comments.

“I like it,” Castiel says. “It feels more authentic. More real. We’re actually talking and carrying on a conversation without being interrupted by electronics for once. If I had known living like this was an option, I would have pushed to move here long before I was ordered to.”

“Maybe that would have saved us a hundred different dinner dates with all the women Dean turned down before you,” Sam says with a shit-eating little grin on his face.

“I was wondering about Dean’s previous courtships, but I wasn’t really sure how to bring it up or if it would be rude to do so,” Castiel says.

“Go for it. There’s not much you could do that would make me think you’re being rude,” Dean says. 

“I know you’ve been unable to find a suitable partner to settle down with. Is that because of your sexual preferences, or is there more to it than that?” Castiel wonders. 

Sam chokes on whatever the hell he’s munching on, and Dean turns bright red now that he hears  _ your sexual preferences  _ said out loud like that at the dining room table. 

“Probably because I didn’t figure out what my preferences  _ were  _ until two days ago,” Dean says. “I didn’t get why the women I was meeting couldn’t hold my interest. I knew they were perfectly nice, but I never felt a spark with any of them. I was starting to think I’d never feel attracted to anybody.”

“And nobody thought you might swing the other way?” Gabriel asks.

“If they did, nobody said anything about it to me,” Dean answers.

“Never even crossed my mind,” Sam says. “I thought he was just being fussy. But after he told me, it definitely helped me put some things into perspective.”

“Like what?” Gabriel questions, grinning mischievously. 

“Like the crush he had on the groom, Cain,” Sam tells them. “And why he’d turn all red and stutter anytime Cain talked to him.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dean says, shaking his head good-naturedly. “It’s not like I’m the first person in the history of the realm to have a crush on somebody.” Just then, Ellen and Jo come in with trays full of food. “Saved by the bell,” Dean quips.

Castiel makes eye contact and inclines his head a little bit in a nod that Dean takes as a gesture of either understanding or solidarity, and either way, the  _ us against them _ part of it buoys his spirits. 

As Ellen and Jo start placing plates of food in front of each of them, Castiel addresses the both of them. “Thank you for all of your trouble preparing this meal for us.”

“It’s no trouble at all, sir,” Ellen says.

The scent of bacon makes Dean's mouth fill with saliva, and he gazes down at his plate heaping with food in the same way he’s seen new parents gaze down at their newly-born children. They’re both gifts from the gods, as far he’s concerned. Bacon is just one that he really, really wants to eat. The rest of the Hunter’s Breakfast consists of the usual bacon, eggs, homemade toast, and fried breakfast potatoes, but because Hunters work with their bodies all day training hard and defending the realm, it also has two sausage links and two thin (but delicious) slices of ham.

“Good Heavens,” Castiel comments. “Everything looks so delicious, I don’t know where to start first.”

“Bacon,” Dean suggests. “Always start with bacon.”

“Mom had to make Ellen promise not to make it more than twice a week because Dean’s clothes stopped fitting,” Sam gloats. Dean’s about to kick him under the table when Castiel, clearly following his advice, selects a piece of bacon and takes a bite. 

Just like with the fruit, he closes his eyes like he’s savoring it, then looks over at Dean with his eyes lit up with happiness. “There are some things worth going up a pants size for, and in my opinion, this is one of them. This is absolutely the best bacon I’ve ever had, Ellen.”

“They’re fawning over you in here,” Dean tells her. “They eat their food outta a box.”

She frowns as if it makes as little sense to her as it does to him, but says, “Not under my watch, you don’t. Eat up, Your Highness. There’s no shortage of bacon in this kingdom.”

They all seem to take that as their cue to dig in. Dean and Sam both clear their plates, but Gabriel leaves some crust from his toast and a couple potatoes, and Castiel eats all of his meat but chooses to finish off what’s left of the fruit, leaving his eggs basically untouched. The four of them linger over more coffee and tea while they try to digest their heavy meals, and after Sam prattles on about a dream he had when they were all squirrels, he’s the first to excuse himself, explaining he has plans with Jessica today.

Dean offers to take both Castiel and Gabriel on the tour he promised, but Gabriel says he ate too much and needs to go lie down. More nervous now, he looks over at Castiel. “Would you still care for a tour?”

“I would like that very much,” Castiel replies. Dean’s so used to Bobby tailing him that it’s  _ almost _ like he and Castiel are alone, and maybe it’s all in his head, but he feels very strongly that the air between them is different now that it’s just the two of them.

Some of that eases when he leads Castiel through the kitchen, pointing out where he and Sam usually eat in the kitchen every morning, and the rest of his nerves disappear once he steps foot outside. He takes a deep breath of fresh air and lifts his face to the sun without thinking about it. There’s still a hint of crispness in the morning April air, but the heat of the sun tells him the afternoon will be much warmer.

When he opens his eyes, he catches sight of Castiel looking away from him quickly, as if he was caught staring. “How much of this land is yours?” Castiel questions suddenly. 

_ Oh, _ Dean realizes. He was probably looking at the line of trees in the distance, not at him. "[All of it](https://i.imgur.com/uSJqyBi.png)," Dean tells him. He does his best to swallow down his ridiculous disappointment, and explains the castle’s boundaries. “As far as you can see, anyway. Those trees go about two and a half acres back before there’s a big stone wall back there, and it’s almost four acres wide. It’s not huge or anything, but we’ve got plenty of space for horseback riding.”

“You have horses, too?” Castiel asks. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you have a big, red barn.”

Dean smiles at the light humor. “No barn, but I could always get the stables painted red if you really want.” 

“Is everyone in the kingdom as care-free and lighthearted as you, Dean?”

“Gods no,” Dean chuckles. “My dad’s the polar opposite of me. Couldn’t even tell you the last time I heard him laugh. Even a smile’s pretty rare if my mom’s not around.”

“I imagine the responsibility of being King would be enough to drag down anybody’s spirits,” Castiel says.

That’s a depressing thought considering what his destiny is, so he does his best to bury it. “I don’t know if that’s it exactly, but I guess I’ll find out.”

“Do you and your father... not get along?” Castiel asks carefully.

Dean lets out a deep sigh. How can he explain something he’s never really understood? “Honestly, it’s a weird relationship. A part of me has always felt like the golden son because I’m the one who’s going to get the crown, but we still kind of butt heads, too.”

“Over what?” Castiel wonders.

“Well, before the other day it was mostly just because I’m not as prim and proper as he’d like me to be. A disgrace to the kingdom and all that stuff, unless of course my outlandish behavior is helping him win people over. Then I’m charming. It’s a narrow and annoying line to walk.”   


“It sounds like it.” Castiel’s voice is quiet when he asks, “Can I ask what happened the other day?”

“I told him I’m pretty sure I’m gay, and instead of telling me I could go ahead and marry whoever I wanted, he forced me into a contract that said I have to marry a princess,” Dean says bitterly. 

Castiel’s tone of voice is almost smug when he replies, “Well, that’s what  _ he thought _ the contract said.”

He wishes that helped him feel better about it. “I know he read it wrong and I’m likely to come out ahead here since I’m getting to marry a man anyway, but he still... he put the kingdom before me, and my mom, and even my brother. It’s the first time he’s come right out and said that everybody else here was more important than the rest of us. Him and my mom...” He trails off, not wanting to dive too far into it and sour his mood anymore than he already has. “I’ve never seen them fight like that before. I don’t know how they’re gonna come back from it.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” They walk a little ways further in silence while Dean tries to shake off the unwelcome reminder of what his dad did to him. “May I ask how he forced you to sign the contract? It seems strange seeing as marriage can only be sanctioned between two willing people.”

“He told me if I didn’t, then Sam would,” Dean confesses. “Sammy’s been in love with Jessica Moore since before he even knew why he was making those puppy dog eyes at her, and I’ve never even kissed a man. I figured it was better to miss out on what I’ve never had than to take the relationship Sam’s already built away from him.”

“You chose your brother’s happiness over your own,” Castiel summarizes. “That was very noble of you, Dean. Especially for such a young Prince.”

“I’m not that young,” Dean points out.

Castiel looks over at him, his head tilted in that way he does. “How old are you?”

“Almost twenty.”

Castiel smiles. A real, teeth-showing, laugh-line-making, genuine smile aimed right at him, and just like last night, he feels it pierce his heart like an arrow straight through the center of a bulls-eye. 

“Not that young at all then,” Castiel says sarcastically. “Basically an old man. In fact, it’s probably safe to say your best years are behind you.”

What Castiel said isn’t all that funny, but this more relaxed side of him is insanely attractive, and so Dean hears himself huff a laugh anyway. “Alright, smart guy. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-five,” Castiel tells him, which makes Dean roll his eyes in response. “I know it’s only a six year gap, but I promise you, when you’ve matured in five years, you’ll look back and see what a difference those specific years make and know exactly what I mean.”

Because he has to know, he asks, “So because you’re older or whatever, do you look at me and see a kid or something?”

“You’ll be my husband soon,” Castiel says, stealing the breath right out of him with the reminder. “It would be a rather uncomfortable situation for us both if that were the case, I imagine.”

“So that’s a fancy way of saying no?” Dean checks.

One corner of Castiel’s mouth tilts up. “Pretty much.” Dean chuckles outright, and Castiel looks over again. “Do you see me as an old man?”   
Dean lifts his eyebrows in surprise. Hasn’t his attraction to Castiel been obvious? He stops in his tracks and lets his eyes drift up and down Castiel’s frame slowly, finally letting his eyes meet Castiel’s once he reaches his face. “The polite answer is no.”

Castiel squints his eyes and comes to a stop himself. “What’s the impolite answer?”   


Dean grins mischievously. “How impolite do you want me to get?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to lift his eyebrows. “Moderately so.”

“Well, with all due respect, Your Highness, it ain’t your money I wanna get my hands on.”

Castiel’s mouth opens without a word, then shuts again at the same time as his cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink. “I suppose I asked for that.”

“Literally,” Dean grins, pleased by his visible embarrassment. “Now that we got the hot and heavy stuff out of the way—” His grin grows when Castiel lets out a short, amused sounding blast of air. “—how about we check out those chickens that had you so excited before?”   


“Because all we need is more excitement,” Castiel says under his breath. 

Castiel changes his tune pretty fast when they round the corner a minute later and the chicken coop comes into view, though. “Oh my goodness! Look at them all!” he gasps. “I didn’t expect so many!”

“Gotta have enough eggs to feed the castle,” Dean says, charmed by the joy all over Castiel’s face. “You wanna go in the yard?”

Castiel’s eyes widen even further. “Will they... bite?”

“Nah,” Dean assures him. “Come on.” He opens the gate, holding it open for Castiel while being careful not to let any chickens escape. Once Castiel steps in, Dean lets the gate close behind him, then says, “They really peck more than they bite.”

_ “Peck?” _ Castiel repeats, stepping away from the closest chicken like it might attack at any moment. 

“It was a joke,” Dean says, fighting back his smile when Castiel hits him with the look of death. “Listen, if any of them peck at you, we’ll just make sure to eat that one first.”

He seems to surprise a laugh out of Castiel, because Castiel looks as shocked as he is when the sound escapes. “That’s awful.”

“But funny,” Dean insists. 

Castiel hums quietly in response as he starts to look around again. “This is incredible,” Castiel says. “What do they do out here all day?”   


“Strut around, flap their wings a little, bock,” he quips. “You know, chicken stuff.”

“Chicken stuff,” Castiel repeats dubiously. “Do you know if any of these chickens lay eggs?”

“To be honest with you, I don't really know a ton about chickens. I’m gonna guess not all of them do, but I couldn’t tell you which ones or why or why not. I do know the ones that lay do it in the coop there, and Jo comes and collects them every morning.”

“Do you know how many eggs they lay a day?” Then he shakes his head, “I’m sorry, you just said—”

“One egg about every twenty-six hours or so.” He shrugs when Castiel looks impressed. “I know some stuff. I had a lotta questions when I was a kid, and by the time Sam was three and started following me around everywhere asking me  _ why _ every three seconds, I figured out I better have answers up my sleeve. Never thought chicken trivia would come in handy with my future husband, but that’s what makes life so interesting, right?”

Castiel’s still smiling, and even though he knows it has more to do with the chickens than it does him, he takes advantage of it to stare at his face some more. Castiel’s smile does make him look younger, Dean decides. Definitely friendlier. And as much as he enjoys Castiel’s stoic, serious look, there’s something exceedingly alluring about the laid-back version, and he wants to bring that side out of Castiel as often as he can. It’s actually kind of fun to realize he might have to work at getting a smile out of somebody for once. 

“Dean?”

Dean snaps back into it, realizing a second too late he’s been staring all this time. “Sorry, yeah?”

“Can one... pick up a chicken?”

Dean offers him a lop-sided smile. “You can if you catch one.”

Castiel’s jaw drops. “Catch one?” He looks down at the chickens, seeming to think about the best way to go about it. “Will they peck me if I try?”   


“Might,” Dean says, noncommittal. “These ones are pretty used to being handled so probably not.” Because Castiel looks so serious staring down at the chickens at his feet, Dean says, “Hey, Your Highness?”   


“Yes, Dean?”

“Why’d the chicken cross the road?”

Castiel’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t give into a smile just yet. “I don’t know, why?”

“To cock-a-doodle doooooo something.”

Castiel presses his lips into a tight line, but he can tell he  _ wants _ to laugh. “That was terrible.”

“Oh come on, it was awesome,” Dean insists. “But don’t worry. I got plenty more where that came from.”

Castiel’s attention is already back down on the chickens though, and Dean feels a stab of jealousy towards the little fuckers knowing he’s lost Castiel to them for the time being. “How do I do it?”

He knows exactly what Castiel’s asking, and yet he answers, “You just gotta remember them. In my experience, no good ‘how did the chicken cross the road’ joke was thought up on the spot.”

“No,” Castiel groans, clearly exasperated with him. “How do you pick up a chicken?”   


Dean chuckles at his own joke, proud of his perfect execution and of Castiel’s reaction. “I don’t know how to explain it, you just sorta scoop it up and tuck it under your arm.”

Castiel glances down at them again, like he can’t decide what to do, and his indecision would be adorable if it didn’t cause Castiel to start chewing on his bottom lip, drawing Dean’s attention to the sight of supple, pink flesh pulled between his teeth.

“Will you show me, Your Highness?” Castiel asks him.

Dean shakes his head as if to clear it, then decides helping him out with the chicken is probably a more productive use of his time than perving on his future husband. “In my good shoes, too,” he complains. “And for the record, using my title isn’t the best way to get me to do stuff, you know.”

“I know, but I didn’t want to lose the effectiveness of that wide-eyed look you’re particularly fond of so early in the day.”

Dean stops, straightening up from where he was getting close to cornering a chicken to turn to face Castiel. “I’m sorry, was that a joke?”

“Of course it was,” Castiel says, sounding amused by the question. “And it was much funnier than your chicken joke.” 

Dean shakes his head fondly, enjoying Castiel’s dry humor. He’s enjoying himself, period, now that he thinks about it. He snags the chicken without much trouble, pinning its wings beneath his armpit to make sure it doesn’t flap away on him. He walks it over to Castiel, who’s looking at him like he just caught a unicorn instead of one of the twenty chickens scattered around a fenced-in yard. 

“You gonna make it, or are you gonna pass out with excitement before you get to hold one?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m remarkably impressed with you right now,” Castiel admits.

Dean can’t help it. He tosses his head back and lets loose a low, booming laugh. The Prince of the Angels is impressed because he knows how to scoop up a chicken. Will wonders never cease? 

“Here,” he tells Castiel around his laugh, gesturing for him to take the chicken. “Use your hands to keep her wings down, and she’ll cozy right in,” Dean promises. 

“What if she flaps her wings or something?” Castiel asks.

“That’s why you’re gonna hold them down,” Dean says dryly. He only grins back when Castiel shoots him a bland look for it. “It won’t flap. Just try it. If it flies away we’ll eat it later and nobody’ll ever know.”

Castiel lets out an indignant sound, but he does finally, tentatively reach out between them. He looks up, meeting Dean’s eyes with hesitancy that Dean encourages with a nod, and finally, Castiel gets one hand on the chicken. It ruffles its feathers a little bit, but with Dean’s arm holding it down, it doesn’t have a chance to move much. 

“Its feathers are so soft,” Castiel coos, and that seems to be enough to prompt him to wrap both hands around the chicken’s middle and transfer it to the crook under his own arm. His eyes are as wide as Dean has ever seen the whole time, like he can’t quite believe this is happening, and then he finally relaxes when he seems to realize he’s really doing it and the chicken isn’t about to get away from him.

“Would you look at that,” Dean says, tilting his head and smiling fully at the picture of Castiel radiating so much happiness because of a stupid chicken cradled in his arms. “You are positively beaming, Your Highness.”

“Thanks to you,” Castiel says softly. Castiel looks down at the chicken, strokes it’s orangey-red feathers gently, and quietly adds, “You can call me Castiel if you’d prefer.”

Dean feels his smile spread to face-splitting capacity. “Yeah?”

Castiel flicks his blue eyes up to Dean’s, and again, he appreciates that although Castiel isn’t smiling so big anymore, he can still see the joy in his eyes. “Yes.”

“Awesome,” Dean breathes. 

Castiel was so serious when they first met yesterday, and it may have taken them a couple of hours to get to this point, but the older man is clearly starting to loosen up. It would be downright easy to talk to Castiel if Dean wasn’t so nervous all the time, but even with that extra layer of tension (at least on his side), it hasn’t been painful to make conversation with Castiel the way it had been at so many of the dinners his parents arranged in the past. Maybe it’s as simple as being motivated and actually wanting to get to know Castiel, but whatever the reason, he’s enjoying their time together.

“Dean?”

He lifts his eyes from where he was absentmindedly watching Castiel’s large, gentle hands stroke the chicken. “Yeah?” 

“Why are some chickens white and some are brown?”

“Because some chickens come from white eggs, and some chickens come from brown eggs.”

Castiel looks down at the chicken in his hands, then down at the one by his feet, then up to Dean. His eyes are squinted, like he can’t tell if Dean’s being serious or joking. “Really?”   


Dean only shrugs, teasing, “Guess you’ll never know.”

Castiel huffs, like he’s annoyed that he wants to know and Dean won’t tell him. “Perhaps I’ll have reason to peruse the castle’s library when we return.”

“Listen to you talkin’ all fancy with a chicken in your hands.”

That earns him another smile, a toothy one that makes his heart flip. “I know, it’s preposterous isn’t it? I can’t wait to tell Gabriel. Do the white ones feel any different than the brown?”

“Only one way to find out,” Dean says. Then, because Castiel seems like he’s having fun now, Dean tries another joke. “Hey Castiel, why did the chicken cross the road?”

Castiel is still smiling when he says, “Why?”

“Nobody knows, but  _ man, _ was it pissed.”

The toothy smile stays this time, but Castiel shakes his head like he’s ashamed of Dean’s terrible sense of humor. “How many of those jokes do you know?”

“I don’t know,” Dean realizes. “But I think we’re about to find out.”

Castiel crouches down and slowly lowers the brown chicken in his hands onto the ground. “Will  you help me catch a white one?”   


“Sure.”

He never would have predicted that he would spend the rest of the morning in some of his finest clothes catching chickens with the Prince of the Angels, but it seems like Castiel wants to hold as many different chickens as he can get his hands on, and considering he smiles just as big as he did the first time every single time he catches one, Dean’s not about to put a stop to it. 

The sun rises steadily in the sky the longer they stay outside, and with it, the temperature goes up, as well. By the time Gabriel comes out to find them, they’re both sweaty and covered in a fine layer of dirt from all of the dust they’ve kicked up while playing with the chickens. Gabriel has come to collect them for lunch, but Castiel shows him what they’ve been doing, and Dean laughs when Castiel convinces Gabriel to hold a chicken, too.

They lose what must be another half hour to Gabriel being just as enchanted by the chickens as Castiel was, and then he remembers what he came out for and they go inside, wash their hands, and have soup and sandwiches for lunch. The mood is much more relaxed now than it was at breakfast, and Dean feels more like himself because of it. He’s slightly disappointed when Castiel requests to retire to his room to rest and clean up before dinner, but Dean escorts him to the door and finds himself walking away with a spring in his step and a smile he can’t wipe off his face.

Bobby corners him once he’s alone, and they go through a couple of housekeeping items for the castle and his schedule for tomorrow, and then Dean spends the afternoon doing the same thing Castiel said he was going to do. He bathes, rests, reads, pesters Ellen about the menu for dinner, takes Baby for a ride and comes back with a fresh bouquet of flowers for the dinner table.

Jess joins them for dinner, and Castiel and Gabriel are every bit as impressed with their meal as they had been at breakfast. Like breakfast, the five of them linger over dessert, and by the time they’re finished, it’s time for Jess to be escorted back to her castle. Dean asks Castiel if he’d fancy a walk through the kingdom, and Castiel excitedly agrees.

He, Sam, and Jess point out different places as they walk by them, sharing childhood stories and town gossip as they go. When Sam walks Jess to her door, Dean and Castiel are left alone in the sudden quiet. Knowing that Sam is likely giving Jess a goodnight kiss when Dean is standing only feet away from the first person he’s  _ ever _ thought about kissing makes the air between them feel thick and heavy. 

“I can see why the thought of your brother with anybody else made you so quick to sign a contract on his behalf,” Castiel comments. “They’re very sweet together.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. Then, he admits, “Kind of weird to feel jealous of my little brother, though.”

“Jealous?”

Dean shrugs, but inclines his head in a nod. “Do you think it’s lame to admit I want what he has?”

“I don’t think so,” Castiel says quietly. “If it is, I suppose we can be lame together.”

Mustering up his courage, Dean asks, “Do you think... maybe one day... we...”

But of course, it’s that exact moment when Sam comes walking down the path towards them. That stops their conversation just when it was getting good, and Dean can’t quite shake the awkwardness he feels between them on their walk back. Sam yaps enough for both of them, though, and without Dean interrupting, Sam finally gets his chance to pick Castiel’s brain about life in the LOA. It’s dark by the time they arrive back at the castle, and once again, Sam bids them goodnight and leaves them alone. 

“Would you like to keep walking a little bit further?” Castiel asks him. “Maybe around the castle grounds?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean agrees. He leads them to the path that winds around the side of the castle, thinking that by the time they reach the back they’ll either be finished with the conversation he’s hoping Castiel wants to get back to as badly as he does, or things will be so incredibly awkward between them they’ll be able to duck in the back door by the kitchen.

He’s glad Bobby gives them a wide berth, but at the same time, it makes everything feel more intimate. Like it’s just the two of them awake in the whole castle, maybe even the realm for how quiet it is out here. He’s vaguely aware of the sounds of insects, birds, and their animals all around them, and along with the scuff of their boots on the stone path and their quiet breathing, it’s a serene setting for a nighttime walk. It gives him time to think over their day together, to reflect on the easy parts and how much fun they’d had together that morning, but it also brings a question to mind he hasn’t considered until now.

“Why did you agree to marry me?” he asks Castiel.

“For the same reasons as you, ultimately,” Castiel responds. “To protect my castle and my people.”

“Yeah, but you’re older than me, which means you had longer to try to find somebody to settle down with. You’re smart and handsome, your kingdom has lots of money, and gender doesn’t matter to the LOA. So how come you weren’t already married?” Dean wonders.

Castiel ducks his head, and Dean watches him as he seems to fold into himself a little bit. “I’ve never really fit in with people my age.”

Dean’s surprised to hear that, and he lets it bleed through in his voice. “How come?”

Castiel shrugs, and for a moment, he thinks Castiel isn’t going to answer him. “It’s ridiculous that I feel so reluctant to talk about this with you when you’ve already agreed to marry me,” he finally says.

“Agreement or not, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me,” Dean assures him. “I think you’re a hell of a catch, so I just don’t get why other people wouldn’t think the same thing.”

Castiel keeps his head down, but Dean’s pretty sure he can see a hint of a smile. “I know a lot of this won’t make sense to you, but all of the things Gabriel is struggling to live without here—television, cell phones, social media—seems to be more important to everybody in my kingdom than anything else. At home, I couldn’t step foot outside the castle walls without having my picture taken, microphones stuck in my face, and then out of context clips and unflattering photos being plastered all over the front of magazines.” He stops, glances over at Dean and asks, “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

He doesn’t. Not really, anyway. He only has a vague impression of television and cell phones, and any magazines he’s ever seen have been about wildlife, science, or porn, but it’s enough to have an image of Castiel swarmed by people come to mind.

“Sounds like a circus,” Dean says.

Castiel huffs a humorless laugh. “You’re not wrong about that. But for reasons that have always escaped me, plenty of people in our kingdom crave the spotlight. They actually  _ want _ their lives invaded like that. They want the fame and their faces splashed on billboards—giant signs—and apparently, a good way to get it is by forging a friendship or relationship with the youngest Prince in the LOA.”

Once Dean puts the puzzle pieces together, he replies, “So you’ve experienced people, what, using you to get more attention?”

“Yes.”

Castiel somehow manages to sound devastated and disappointed with just that one word, and he can tell the admission cost him. “That’s fucked up.”

Castiel seems taken aback by the language, but only for a moment before he agrees. “Yes, it is, but it doesn’t seem to stop people.”

“I’m really sorry you had to deal with that kinda stuff.”

“You get used to it,” Castiel says. The implication that something like that has happened to Castiel enough that he’s  _ had _ to get used to it has Dean viciously hating people in the LOA on Castiel’s behalf. “What I’ve never really been able to shake is the public’s perception of me.”   


“Which is?”

“That I’m odd,” Castiel says. “Because I’ve never really used social media or watched television, inevitably, I don’t understand a lot of pop culture references. It makes it hard for me to keep up at social gatherings, and the general consensus is that makes people think I’m weird.”

“Sounds like a pile of bullshit to me,” Dean remarks. “You’ve been talking about a whole bunch of stuff I don’t understand, but that doesn’t make me any more weird than I already was. It just makes us different. _ Gods, _ think about how boring it would be if everybody liked the same thing! No thank you,” he says vehemently.

Castiel shakes his head slightly, as if he can’t quite believe what Dean’s saying. “You have no idea how remarkable you are, do you?”

“Remarkable?” Dean echoes, disconcerted by the term. “I don’t know what gave you that impression. I’m a Prince, but hell, if you ask my dad, he’d probably tell you I’m not even all that good at  _ that. _ I mean, I guess I’m pretty decent with a sword, but that’s pretty much all I’ve got going for me.”

“I’ve known you for a day, Dean, and I already know that isn’t true,” Castiel says firmly. “You’re compassionate, courageous, and you somehow manage to be righteous without being pretentious.”

Dean’s face feels a little warm hearing that, so he does what he always does and cracks a joke. “But I have a terrible sense of humor.”

“Thankfully that doesn’t cancel out your more admirable traits,” Castiel jests lightly. 

They wind their way around the garden and towards the back of the castle in what Dean thinks is a comfortable silence now compared to how awkward he felt earlier. Maybe because now he knows that Castiel thinks those flattering thoughts about him? He doesn’t see himself the way Castiel seems to, but if that’s the impression he’s given the older man, he’s more than happy to let him have it. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to live up to it.

“Do you ever feel like you were born in the wrong kingdom?”

Castiel’s question surprises him, but he doesn’t think it was really meant for him to answer. “Why? Do you?”

“I didn’t until I showed up here,” Castiel admits. He doesn’t say anything else for a few minutes, but Dean has the feeling he’s leading up to something, so he gives him time to work through it. “I’ve only really been here for a day, but I feel like this kingdom is more my pace than my own kingdom was. It’s quieter, calmer, less flashy and instantaneous. From everything you’ve shown me and told me today, it’s not who you know, but hard work that gets you success and respect here. It already feels more genuine than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

Considering that’s going to work out well for him, he means it when he says, “I’m glad you like it here.” Since they’ve reached the back of the castle by now, Dean asks, “Would you like to head inside or go the rest of the way around?”

“Inside, I think. My feet are starting to get tired from all the walking.”

The inside of the castle is just as quiet as outside had been. Maybe even more so. They walk through the kitchen and the dining room in silence, then they take the hallway that leads to Castiel’s bedroom. They’re in the small space between Castiel’s room and Gabriel’s when Castiel speaks again. 

“Dean,” Castiel says, abruptly coming to a stop in front of his bedroom door. “Can we be frank?”

“I prefer it that way pretty much always,” Dean answers.

“What are we doing?”

With no other hints to go off of, Dean goes with the obvious. “I’m walking you to your room like the gentleman my mother always hoped I would turn out to be.”

“With you and I,” Castiel clarifies, his lips twitching to hold back a smile. “We’re going to be married in six days, and I have absolutely no idea how to act towards you.”

He knew Castiel was thinking about something, but he didn’t think it was this. He always seems so sure of himself, confident in his every move. Dean never would have thought he was struggling with how to present himself. 

“I just want you to be yourself,” Dean tells him. “Forget about the way you think you’re supposed to act towards me and just be who you are. Like you did when we were with the chickens this morning.”

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time,” Castiel confesses. “I hope it doesn’t offend you to admit it, but I didn’t...” He pauses for a moment as if he’s going to change his mind, but ultimately finishes, “I didn’t expect any of this when I came here.”

“Expect any of what?”

“That you would be... how you are.” Dean frowns at that, not sure what he means. “I was told you were difficult, spoiled, cold. That you wouldn’t commit to any one person no matter what they offered you, and  _ that _ was the real reason your father had you sign that contract.” Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Castiel smiles softly. “You don’t have to defend yourself, I already know it’s not true. You smile more freely than anyone I’ve ever met, and you had a rose ready to give to me even when you thought I was a woman who you were forced into marrying. Then you picked fresh bouquets of flowers today just to make me happy, and spent hours with me helping me catch chickens even though you’ve probably done it a thousand times.”

“Well, yeah...” Dean says slowly, unsure what he’s supposed to say to all of that. “I know we didn’t exactly volunteer for this, but I still...” How much is too much to say now? Can he tell Castiel that he wants a chance to be together for real, or will he be coming on too strong? “We’re going to have to live with each other for the rest of our lives, so I want you to be happy.”

Castiel tilts his head to the side, giving him an assessing look. “You’re trying to make the best out of an unideal situation.”

It’s not untrue. “Yeah.”

Castiel straightens his head, lifts his chin, and hits Dean with eye contact so intense he feels like Castiel is looking straight into his very soul. “But is that the only reason you’re being so nice to me?”

Dean swallows, licks his lips nervously. “What do you mean?”   


“I mean... Do you want to get married and spend our lives together as friends making the best of an unideal situation, or do you...” He has no fucking clue how they wound up so close together, but there’s so little space between them now that he catches the scent of sun and sweat wafting from Castiel’s body. It’s a mouthwatering combination, and the determination burning in his icy blue eyes only adds to it. “Do you want more from me?”   


“Honestly?” Dean asks.

“Please.”

“I like you,” Dean confesses quietly, his cheeks turning pink with the admission. “I like your serious side, but I like when I can break through it and I get to see you laugh, too. I want to get to know you better so I can figure out how I can make you smile even without the chickens,” he jokes. “And if you’re on the same page or maybe if you feel like you might be some day, I’d...” He flicks his eyes away to gather his courage again, and continues, “I’d like to know how it feels to hold hands and what it’s like sneaking kisses at the end of the night... with you.”

Castiel looks at him for what feels like a very long time before his gaze softens. “I came into this thinking I would be lucky to forge a friendship with you,” Castiel replies, slowly, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “But after today, I’d like the chance to be the one to show you the things you’re describing. I know we’re already engaged, but if you’re willing, I’d like to forget about that for now.”

His heart sinks. “You want to forget about being engaged?”

“Yes.” He would be insulted and frightened if Castiel’s lips didn’t turn up into a nervous, wobbly smile. “Because I want to court you.”

He blinks idiotically, tying to make sense out of what Castiel is saying. Dean’s heart must be going a mile a minute by now, and he's been feeling increasingly breathless from every word that's coming out of Castiel’s mouth, but _that_ completely steals his breath altogether. “You want to court me?” he repeats stupidly.   


“I do,” Castiel reiterates. “I’ve held back until now because I wasn’t certain you wanted anything more than camaraderie with me, but I feel it’s important that you know even if you hadn’t been chosen for me, you would have turned my head anyway. I would have pursued you, and I would have been just as charmed by your freckles and your smile as I was the moment I first saw you.” He’s sure his face is a bright shade of pink at this point, but it’s hard to care when Castiel is looking at him like this, saying the words he’s heard a million times from different women but making them sound like poetry purely because they’re coming from  _ him _ this time. “You’ve been sweeping me off of my feet all day, and if you’ll give me the chance, I want to do the same for you.”

“I-I want that.” Dean stutters in his excitement, from the mixture of nerves and a buzzing attraction that makes his body feel more alive than it ever has before. “But I-I have no idea what I’m doing,” Dean whispers.

Castiel steps forward again, and now they’re so close he can  _ feel _ the body heat coming off of the other man. “I won’t rush you,” he promises quietly. 

Castiel lifts his hand, and when he reaches towards Dean’s face like he might want to touch him, Dean nods his head in permission. His lips part in surprise when Castiel brushes the backs of his fingers from his cheek down to his jaw, and although Castiel seems just as affected based on the way his breath hitches and his hand stills suddenly, all of Dean’s concentration goes towards processing the electric thrill that surges through his insides. 

Castiel’s fingers resume stroking his jaw, and his voice is low and reverent when he speaks again. “You’re beautiful, Dean. I thought it the first moment I saw you, and I’ve thought it a thousand times since then.”

Nobody has ever touched him like this before. Nobody has ever looked at him like they see beyond his face and into his heart, and never, not once, has he wanted to be kissed as badly as he does in this moment. He feels like he’s primed for it, like the way his shoulders are heaving and his body is humming with anticipation is  _ meant  _ to reel Castiel in like a fish on a hook. He licks his lips subconsciously, only noticing the nervous habit when Castiel’s eyes leave his to track the movement, and he speaks before he thinks.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” Dean breathes. _Begs._

He feels his knees go weak when Castiel’s thumb traces the shape of his lower lip, and a quiet, pathetic little sound escapes him from the impossible weight of his desire. “I’d like to,” Castiel answers. “Very much. But not quite yet.” Castiel cups his jaw for just a moment before he lets his hand fall away, and the instant the warmth leaves his face, Dean wants it back. “Will you join me for breakfast in the morning, Dean?”

He would agree to bring down the moon if Castiel asked him to right now. “Of course.”

“I’ll look forward to it, then,” Castiel replies. Dean's left reeling when Castiel turns to open his door, but he spins back around once it's opened to say, “Thank you for the most wonderful day I've ever had."

The lack of proximity has his brain working again, and so he’s able to respond as if his head wasn’t filled with mush only a second ago. “Thank you for putting up with me for a whole day,” Dean says lightly. Then, more seriously, he adds, “Goodnight, Castiel.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

It isn’t until the door closes between them and Dean starts walking down the hall that he feels an incredibly distracting but delicious sensation between his legs, and when he looks down, he sees a rather obvious erection straining at the crotch of his pants. His eyes go a little wide, he’s sure he flushes all the way to his ears, and when he looks up to see if Bobby is watching him, he’s almost lightheaded with relief when he sees him looking the other way.

He folds his hands over his groin to walk the rest of the way to his bedroom, and although he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this, he knows he’s  _ really _ onto something with the whole being attracted to men thing when all it takes is a few hurried strokes and the memory of Castiel’s thumb on his lip to give himself the most powerful orgasm he’s ever experienced. 

And  _ that, _ he thinks as he drifts off only minutes later, is the mark of one hell of a successful day.


	5. Chapter 5

Like the morning before, he dresses meticulously on Monday. Bobby already told him he’s off the hook for most of his lessons this week because he’s supposed to spend time with Castiel, but he still has to participate in his daily training with the rest of the castle guards. That means he needs to dress in something he’s comfortable moving around in, so he chooses a pair of sturdy trousers, tucks a cotton t-shirt into it, then dons his favorite brown leather jacket. 

It’s old and worn with several buckles and straps on the chest, more for decoration than functionality, and the sleeves go just past his elbows. It falls over his hips to protect his backside for when he’ll inevitably wind up in the dirt, and it ties into place with a leather belt. He’s always liked the way this particular jacket drapes over his hips and the belt cinches his waist just right to make his shoulders look more broad than they are. He feels strong, masculine, and confident in this jacket, and after what happened last night with Castiel telling him he wants to court him, he hopes Castiel likes the way it looks on him, too.

His back is straight and his chin held high when he knocks on Castiel’s door to escort him to breakfast, but the second the door is pulled open and he gets his first look at Castiel, he’s awestruck by the older man. Castiel looks like he, too, is dressed for combat. He’s in a white, long-sleeved dress shirt, but the part that has Dean’s tongue glued to the roof of his mouth is his vest. It’s a double-breasted black leather vest that folds over itself and is held in place with two rows of gold buttons down the front, accentuating his thick, muscular torso and the breadth of his shoulders. The high jacket collar and deep vee are very aristocratic, and his only wish is that the dress shirt beneath wasn’t buttoned all the way up his neck. He’d much prefer to see a sliver of his tanned skin, maybe find out if his future husband has chest hair he can run his fingers through one day.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel says, pulling his thoughts out of the gutter. “You look roguishly handsome this morning.”

Heat hits his cheeks so fast that he’s flustered enough to say the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re one to talk.”

“May I escort you to breakfast?” Castiel asks.

Dean furrows his brows in confusion. “Thought that’s what I was doing to you.”

Castiel smiles politely as he steps out of the room, closes the door, and holds out his arm for Dean to take. “May I?”

“Oh!” Dean says, feeling like an idiot for not catching on sooner. “Yeah, okay.”

He slips his hand into the crook of Castiel’s arm and feels his mouth go dry all over again when he curls his hand around Castiel’s bicep for the first time. Clearly, Castiel is every bit as strong as he looks, and Dean finds himself incredibly attracted to it. 

“Did you sleep well?” Castiel asks, starting down the hall.

“Really well,” he answers, feeling his cheeks continue to burn when he thinks back on what exactly had been the reason for that. “You?”

“I did, although I have to admit nervous energy made it hard to fall asleep at first.”

“What were you nervous about?”

“You, mostly,” Castiel confesses.

“You seriously have nothing to worry about when it comes to me,” Dean assures him. “You just keep batting those pretty blue eyes at me and you’ll have me eating outta the palm of your hand.”

“Yes, I believe we established that the first night we met,” Castiel teases.

That reminds him—“Shit, we almost forgot Gabriel,” Dean says, stopping to turn to fetch him.

“No need,” Castiel tells him. “He was up and ready to escape his room a little earlier today, so he went to the dining room to start with some coffee.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Did you have anything planned for us today?” Castiel wonders.

“Not really. I still have a couple places I’d like to show you, but after breakfast I’m afraid you’ll be on your own for a few hours while I have training.”

“Training? For what?”

“Battle training,” Dean says.

“They train the future king for battle?” Castiel asks, sounding scandalized by the very idea.

“Well, yeah,” Dean answers. “If somebody gets past the castle guards, I need to know how to defend myself. It’s important that I stay in shape. They won’t even let me miss a day because you’re here.”

“Could I watch?” Castiel asks.

“It’s not all that exciting. Just a bunch of training drills over and over.”

“I’d like to see you in action,” Castiel says bluntly, and well, Dean’s not about to say no to that.

“Far be it for me to say no to the Prince,” Dean teases as they walk into the dining room.

Gabriel faces them to say good morning, but his eyes light up with glee before he gets a word out. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little canoodling in the hallways?”

“I was merely escorting my future husband to the dining room,” Castiel replies. As if to prove his point, he withdraws his arm to rest a hand on Dean’s lower back, guiding him towards the seat he sat in yesterday. “After you, Your Highness.”

“Why thank you, Your Highness,” Dean says primly, playing along. 

Castiel pours himself some tea before he sits, so Dean follows his lead and gets himself some coffee. “No Sam today?” Castiel asks once he’s settled into his seat.

Dean explains that Sam will be busy with classes throughout the week, and they’re deep in conversation about the differences in schooling between both kingdoms when Ellen comes in with breakfast. He’s pleased when Ellen brings in fresh fruit for Castiel, and he declares his undying love for her when she places a plate of apple cinnamon french toast down in front of him. Unlike yesterday, he doesn’t have the luxury of lingering over their meal, so he gobbles it down as quickly as he can, then spends a few short minutes digesting before Bobby comes to collect him for training. 

Castiel isn’t quite finished, but Jo steps in and offers to show him the way, so with that settled, he goes outside to join the other men. As usual, their training session starts out with cardio, Dean’s least favorite part of training. Twenty minutes later, he’s sweating and breathing hard, but in the good way that tells him he’s warmed up and ready to get to the good stuff. 

They go through a myriad of defensive stances after that, practicing fading, empty fading, lunging, and pivoting. By the time they’re done with all that, Dean has beads of sweat dripping from his temples, but his favorite part is about to start: one-on-one sparring. 

He can and has taken every one of the men here today, and because he saw Castiel come outside some time ago and can feel his eyes on him from across the field, he’s looking forward to showing off a little bit. He’s been training with most of these men since he started, but none of them have ever really gotten used to the fact that he’s a prince. It gives him an advantage he isn’t afraid to use against them, and when he’s come up against and beaten three men in a matter of ten minutes, he’s feeling damn good about himself. 

Which is why he only grins when Bobby steps in to take the empty space across from him.

“Didn’t think I was gonna let you off the hook just because your boyfriend’s here, did ya?” Bobby asks.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Dean snarks right back. “I’m just worried about your old ass getting hurt.”

“We’ll see which of the two of us winds up on his ass,” Bobby says back. “In position.”

Dean plants his feet a shoulder-width apart, and Bobby offers a sword salute with mock seriousness. Dean returns it sloppily, grinning confidently all the while as the two of them begin to circle the other in the practice ring. 

Dean’s always found that Bobby’s weakness is his eyes. He learned long ago that he can tell where Bobby’s about to move before he strikes because his eyes dart there first, so by watching the old man’s gaze, he’s able to lunge sideways to miss the first attack. He parries sharply, grins again, and thrusts his sword towards Bobby, pulling back _just_ in time to tap Bobby’s cheek with the dull flat of his practice sword.

Bobby turns his head and growls, “Knock it off. This is supposed to be practice, not entertainment for your pretty princess.”

Because Bobby sounds genuinely angry, he drops his guard and is about to apologize when Bobby slaps his blade aside and thrusts rapidly. The dirty move catches him off-guard, but he manages to parry just in time and counter-thrusts, their blades meeting with a body-shaking _slam_ and their equal strength forcing the two of them to meet face-to-face, arms and swords held high in the air. With their shoulders heaving heavy breaths, they regard each other with renewed fire in their eyes. This is a friendly competition, but it’s a competition nonetheless, and they both want to come out victorious.

Bobby reacts to their predicament first, attempting a knee to the groin, but Dean jumps back quickly enough to dodge the blow. “Going for the family jewels is playing dirty, old man,” Dean tells him as they begin to circle each other again.

“Just keepin’ you on your toes, pretty boy.”

Bobby glances to his right, and Dean’s able to parry once more. He deflects Bobby’s cut into a thrust, forcing the older man back several steps in order to keep his balance, and now he knows he’s got him. Bobby’s usually flawless footwork is off, letting him know he has the old man frazzled, so he dives in without restraint, driving him back further and further with clash after clash of their swords, never allowing him to regain his balance.

To Bobby’s credit, he blocks desperately again and again, never giving up even though it seems inevitable that Dean will be the winner of this duel. Bobby holds his ground with pure brutish stubbornness while Dean leads him around the ring three times, and Dean’s sword arm is aching by the time he’s finally able to slip the tip of his sword past Bobby’s guard. Knowing the blade is dull, he nicks the tip against Bobby’s neck, startling him enough that he steps back again and out of the ring. 

If the potentially lethal placement of the wound he would have been able to inflict in a real battle wasn’t enough to mark Dean as the winner, Bobby’s exhausted, “Son of a bitch!” would have cemented it.

The older man slumps forwards and braces himself on his knees, and Dean follows suit, laughing breathlessly when everybody watching cheers for him. He lifts his hand to wave lazily, then after a few more seconds of catching his breath, he goes over to help Bobby straighten up.

“If I was twenty years older, you would’ve had me,” Dean tells him.

“If you’d use the same footwork as every other soldier, I’d be able to read your moves before you make them and be able to counter. But no,” Bobby grumbles. “You insist on doin’ it your own fancy pants royal way.”

“Works,” Dean points out.

“Boils my blood, but it does,” Bobby agrees, finally straightening up on his own now. “Which is why after you get married and we start training twice as many men, you’ll be teaching the new class and I’ll be watchin’ from a distance like your prince over there, makin’ sure you’re staying in line.”

“Teaching, really?” Dean asks, excited by the possibility. 

“It ain’t a holiday, son,” Bobby tells him. “Buncha young, cocky no-minds, thinkin’ they’re gonna be hot stuff training at the castle and working with the prince. You’re gonna have to keep ‘em on the straight and narrow, and it ain’t gonna be easy.”

“Bobby, I’m a prince,” Dean tells him. “I was literally born to boss people around. I got this.”

Bobby snorts. “Yeah, we’ll see. We can talk about that later. Right now, you better go collect your princess before he swoons any harder and falls right off that fancy chair.”

Dean grins nice and wide. “Don’t mind if I do. Good class, Bobby.” He may have an exaggerated swagger to his gait when he walks over to where Castiel is leaning back against the castle wall, but he figures he earned it. He leans his elbow against the wall next to Castiel, aiming a self-assured smile down at him. “Enjoy the show, Your Highness?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Castiel replies. “You were magnificent out there.”

His chest puffs out automatically. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely breathtaking.” Dean’s tongue darts out to wet his dry lips when Castiel reaches out to tighten the belt that has come loose throughout his training. “All of your men are well-trained, of course, and I can see now why the Hunters have the reputation they do. But you, Dean?” He’s suddenly unsure whether it’s the workout or Castiel’s heavy gaze pinning him in place that has him feeling out of breath now. “You move unlike any other soldier on the field. I don’t know if I’m more amazed by your skill or aroused by your confidence.”

“A-aroused?” Dean stutters, sure he must have misheard him.

Castiel steps forwards abruptly, startling him enough that he steps back without thinking until his back hits the wall. Castiel boxes him in with one hand on either side of his body, bracing himself against the wall and bringing their bodies so close together Dean’s already panting from a burning anticipation of the possibility of Castiel closing the remaining distance between them.

“Forgive me. Was that too forward?” Castiel asks.

The only reason he’s able to form words at all is because Castiel seems genuinely worried. “No. Just really fucking hot.”

“Hmm,” Castiel hums, his low voice vibrating in the air between them as his eyes drift slowly down Dean’s face to land on his lips. “It’s particularly interesting to me how effortless it seemed for you to dodge every blow on the field, and yet how willing you were to bend to my will only a moment ago.”

Dean swallows, hard, feeling his heart beating in his chest like a drum. “Maybe I don’t want to get away from you.”

Castiel’s already low voice seems to have dropped another octave. “What _do_ you want?”

“A congratulatory kiss might be nice.” He was aiming for false-bravado, but considering his voice is quivering with nerves, he’s pretty sure it falls flat. 

Castiel smiles anyway, but this is nothing like any of the smiles he’s seen so far. This is a slow, sexy smile that seems to light a fire low in his belly. “How you tempt me, Dean,” he whispers. 

“You know—” Now would be a really great time for his voice to come out strong and sure, so he takes a deep breath and tries again. “You know I want you to, right?”

“And I will,” Castiel promises. “But the first time I feel you turn boneless in my arms, it won’t be outside with your royal guard watching me like he’s considering having me beheaded.”

Dean misses the second half of that sentence for several long seconds while he absorbs the way Castiel just said, _the first time I feel you turn boneless in my arms,_ but when it comes to him, he forces his eyes away from the blue of Castiel’s and spots Rufus watching them like he’s debating an attack.

Dean lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers in a wave, and although he can’t hear Rufus, he’s pretty sure he’s cursing him under his breath as he turns away from them. “Guess I better have an awkward chat with them and let them know that I give my enthusiastic consent to having you back me up against any hard surfaces you can find.”

Castiel chuckles quietly, but it fades away into nothing when he cups Dean’s face again. Dean’s much less shocked by this now than he was last night, and he leans into his touch for more, letting his eyelids flutter closed to better remember exactly how warm Castiel’s hand is and how gentle his fingers feel as they follow the line of his jaw. Dean turns his face slightly, nuzzling into his palm, and if his eyes were open, he’s sure they’d roll back into his head when Castiel brushes his fingers through the short strands of his hair above his ear only to settle onto the nape of his neck. 

Any stiffness in his shoulders and back he was unintentionally holding onto drains out of him all at once, and when he finally pries his heavily-lidded eyes open, Castiel’s eyes look so brightly blue it’s almost like they’re glowing. It only lasts for a split second before the illusion fades as quickly as it appeared, and he forgets about it entirely when he melts back against the wall as Castiel’s fingers start stroking the back of his neck. It feels _incredible,_ and Dean has the ridiculous thought that he would stand here like this all day if Castiel would let him.

“Have you never been touched like this before?” Castiel asks, sounding quietly stunned by having to ask the question.

“No,” Dean answers. “I’ve never wanted to be before.”

“You never even tried? With a woman either?” 

“Never even thought about it,” Dean admits. 

Castiel’s eyes find his, and it feels like the whole realm narrows down to the particular shade of blue of Castiel’s eyes. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t look away if the castle caught on fire. “You respond so beautifully to being touched that it makes me sad to think you’ve never experienced it before,” Castiel declares. “On the other hand, I feel quite powerful knowing that my touch is the only one you’ll ever know.” Castiel breathes in deeply, then steps back and tugs Dean off of the wall and to his side by his hand. “Walk with me before I lose my head more than I already have.”

Dean goes without complaint, but he secretly wishes Castiel would have kept a hold of his hand instead of guiding it back onto the crook of his arm like what’s “proper.” 

“That was you ‘losing your head’?” he questions. “You barely even touched me.”

“Would you have me ravish you in the open where everybody can see?” Castiel asks.

He’s not entirely sure how he feels about the possibility since he’s never really thought about anything like that before. “I don’t know,” Dean answers. “But I’m not totally against the idea.”

Castiel shakes his head fondly. “Oh, to be nineteen again.”

Dean grins and decides to poke the bear a little bit. “Past your prime for ravishing, Castiel?”

Thankfully, Castiel is amused instead of insulted by his joke. “I’ll show you my prime,” he threatens, but there’s no heat behind it, and it keeps Dean’s grin firmly in place. “Where did you pick up such an insufferable, sarcastic attitude anyway?”

“Funnily enough, I recently had a similar conversation with my mom, and she kind of implied I must have learned it from the stables.”

“The horses you tend to are fluent in sarcasm?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “They ain’t got nothin’ on you.” When Castiel laughs, he explains, “I spent a lot of time at the stables because I loved the horses so much. Most of the guys who worked down there didn’t have the same kind of etiquette classes me and Sam did, if you know what I mean, and I guess some of their language stuck with me.”

“And I’m sure the crush you had on the groom had nothing to do with you emulating him,” Castiel says knowingly.

“Listen, I didn’t even know I had a crush on him until my friend Charlie and Sam pointed it out.”

Castiel tilts his head. “I don’t think I’ve heard you speak about Charlie before, and I’d like to hear more about your friend another time, but right now I’m more interested in the competition.”

Dean laughs at the very idea. “There is no competition. Even if I figured out what I was feeling when he was here, it never would’ve happened.”  
  
“Why is that?” Castiel questions.

“He’s old,” Dean tells him. “I’m talking older-than-my-dad kinda old.”

“And you were attracted to him?” Castiel asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean answers carefully. 

“Tell me about him.”

It feels kind of strange to talk about this with Castiel of all people, but he’s never talked about it outloud before without being teased for it, so he goes for it. “He was old, but he wasn’t an old geezer or anything. He was fit. Strong, even, and he wasn’t afraid of hard work or getting his hands dirty.”  
  
“A man’s man,” Castiel says.

“Yeah, you could definitely say that,” he agrees. “He wasn’t just muscle, though. He knew his shit, too. We worked together every day for years trying to get Baby to let me ride her, and he wound up teaching me pretty much everything I know about horses. A lot of other grooms wouldn’t have given so much time to a thirteen-year-old rich kid, but Cain did, and he never made me feel like less just because I was younger than him.”

“He respected you and encouraged you to embrace your passion. He sounds like a wonderful man, and one worthy of your only crush.”

Dean knocks into him playfully. “First crush, not only.”

Castiel hums as if he’s pleased by that, and Dean feels his insides turn warm from the thought. “Do you always flirt so openly with the people you court?”

“Literally never,” Dean laughs. “How am I doing?”

“You have me absolutely enchanted,” Castiel says, and Dean is oddly touched when he notices how sincere his voice is. Castiel isn’t teasing anymore; he means it. Compliments are given so freely due to his status that Dean can’t think of a time when he’s been actually speechless because of one, but here he is unable to think of a single thing to say in response. 

His face turns more and more red as the seconds tick by, and finally he blows out an exasperated breath. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

“Thank you might work,” Castiel says.

He huffs a laugh. “Alright, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Are you leading me somewhere specific?” Castiel asks. “Or are we wandering aimlessly?”

Dean looks up, paying attention to his surroundings for the first time since Castiel took his arm. They’re on the path to the stables. Though he wasn’t consciously thinking about bringing Castiel this way, now seems as good a time as any to see how the man he’s promised to marry reacts to his favorite pastime. 

“How do you feel about horses?”

“Not quite as enthusiastic as chickens, but I’d love to meet your horse if you’re willing to share that with me.”

That’s encouraging enough for him, so he purposely leads the way to the stables now while he tells Castiel about his dinner with Hannah and how she was automatically put out of the running when she said she hated horses. Castiel asks him what other things would give him an ‘automatic out of the running,’ and Dean laughs while he explains some of the Dean Winchester dos and don’ts, thinking of what Jo and Ellen said before about a cheat sheet. He ends up explaining that bit, too, and Castiel says he’ll be sure to pick the womens’ brains just as they arrive at the stables.

Cesar isn’t around, but Baby’s definitely picked up on the sound of Dean’s voice, because he can hear her starting to nicker. 

“Is that her?” Castiel asks. 

“Yeah, she must’ve heard me talking.” As they round the corner and come up in front of her stall, the nickering sounds more excited, and Dean laughs as he approaches her and lays a hand on her face. “Somebody wants a ride, huh girl?” The soft sounds continue while he pets down her face, trying to calm her down before she gets too riled up. “Come on over, Castiel,” Dean says. 

“She seems excited to see you,” Castiel says as he comes closer. 

“She knows my voice means treats or a ride,” Dean explains. “She’s usually a pretty tough sell, so don’t be insulted if she doesn’t want you to touch her right away.”

Castiel is standing just behind him, making it impossible to see his face, but Dean thinks it sounds like he’s smiling when he says, “I think this might be the biggest horse I’ve ever seen, but my gods, she’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, she is,” Dean says proudly. 

“Her coat is just gorgeous,” Castiel exclaims quietly. 

“Takes a lot of work to keep it that way, too,” Dean tells him. “She likes having her neck rubbed. You wanna give it a try?”

“I don’t want to frighten her,” Castiel says. 

“Nah, she’s doing okay with you so far. See how she’s got her head tilted down? It’s ‘cause she wants a pat,” Dean explains. “If she wasn’t in the mood, I’d know.” 

“I have to admit, I’m a little apprehensive.”

That’s adorable. “Let’s give it a shot together,” Dean suggests. “Gimme your hand.”

Castiel takes one step to the side, his hand up in open invitation, and Dean swallows hard before he says, “Just put your hand on top of mine to start. Nice and slow. That’s it.” When Castiel’s hand covers his, he looks over his shoulder to give him an encouraging smile and is startled to see how close they are to one another now. He looks back at Baby quickly, trying to keep his thoughts on helping Castiel do this correctly, but now that he _knows_ Castiel is so close behind him it’s impossible to ignore his proximity. 

“Spread your hand a little,” Dean says. Castiel obeys, and because his hand is so much bigger than Dean’s (and why is _that_ so arousing?), his thumb and fingertips all end up on Baby’s coat. “Feel that?”

“Mmhmm. It’s nice.” 

He can feel Castiel’s breath hot on the back of his neck, and his low voice sounds even deeper than usual now that they’re so close to one another. It makes his mind wander to what other circumstances might earn him a low sound from the older man, like if Castiel might hum against his lips in the middle of a particularly satisfying kiss. 

“Can we pet her now?”

_Focus._

“Yeah. Just follow my lead.”

He slowly runs his hand along the length of Baby’s neck with Cas’s hand over his, pressing hard the way Baby likes it until his arm is completely outstretched as far as it can go. It’s the third pass along her coat when Castiel rests his free hand on Dean’s hip, stepping forward just enough to slot his chest against Dean’s back. 

“Okay?” Castiel asks. 

“Y-yeah,” Dean replies, though he finds himself oddly breathless by the sensation of Castiel’s body bracketing his so closely from behind. It’s comforting and stimulating at the same time, and he lets his eyes slip closed as he feels his body relax against Castiel’s. He thinks about leaning back entirely... about resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder and letting the larger man take his weight... about how Castiel might wrap his arms around him and nuzzle into his neck...

“This is wonderful,” Castiel comments.

That snaps him out of it enough to realize that it really is pretty wonderful, and in more ways than Dean was expecting when he initially suggested this. Seeing as Baby has reacted well to their shared touch so far, he decides to press his luck and take things a step further. 

“Let’s try it the other way around,” Dean says. He takes Castiel’s hand in his, and watches Baby closely for any signs of agitation when he puts Castiel’s hand just below her neck. She tilts her head to the side, giving them more space to touch her, and Dean smiles as his remaining nerves disappear. 

His girl’s an excellent judge of character. 

“That’s a good girl,” he croons quietly. 

He lays his hand on top of Castiel’s, applying the pressure he knows Baby likes, and guides Castiel’s hand down her neck, then back up to stroke their way down again and again. Castiel relaxes behind him and his thumb starts caressing Dean’s hip in the same back-and-forth motion of their hands on Baby. Dean closes his eyes again, trying to keep his breathing steady as his body continues to heat up from Castiel’s proximity and gentle touches, when suddenly, Baby shakes her head and breaks the spell. 

Castiel jolts back as Baby takes a deep breath in and let’s it out in a long, quivering sigh. Dean’s just as startled as Castiel seems to be, but only because his head was in the clouds, not because he’s afraid of the horse. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Castiel asks, sounding concerned. 

“Nah, I think she just had enough. Probably wants to go for a ride.”

“You could do that if you want,” Castiel offers. 

Dean turns to look over at him. “Are you that anxious to get rid of me?”

“Please,” Castiel huffs. “If anything, I’m anxious to see if you look as unbearably handsome on your horse as you did with a sword in your hand.”

He’s not about to say no to that, especially after the way Castiel reacted to seeing him on the field. “Alright. You wanna help me get her ready for her saddle?”

“I would love to,” Castiel replies. 

It takes much longer than it usually does to do it together, but Dean patiently walks Castiel through all the steps to get Baby groomed and ready for a ride. Castiel is an excellent student, full of questions and eager to learn, and Dean finds a lot of joy in being close to him, watching Castiel’s timid touches slowly turn more confident, and ultimately sharing this part of his life with someone for the first time.

By the time Baby’s on a lead and ready to go, both he and Castiel are streaked with dirt and sweating from so much moving around, but neither of them seem able to wipe the smiles off of their faces. 

“That was more rewarding than I expected, and I haven’t even seen what I was angling for yet,” Castiel tells him. 

“Well, pay close attention then, because you’re about to see something special,” Dean says with an air of overconfidence. He gets one leg up in the stirrup, swings his other leg over his Baby, and straightens up to shoot Castiel a cocky smile. 

“Absolutely breathtaking,” Castiel declares. 

“Me or the horse?” Dean teases. 

“100% you. I’m an extremely lucky man.” 

Dean steers Baby in a circle to keep her from getting too restless, trying and failing not to be so flattered by Castiel’s compliment. He likes the way it feels to hear that Castiel considers himself lucky just because of how Dean looks on a horse. 

“Anybody ever tell you you’re damn good at the whole courting thing?”

“Nobody but you has had the chance to find out,” Castiel admits. “Now, go on. Let me see how you ride her. I’ll go back to the castle and fetch you a cold drink for when you come back.”

Because that already sounds heavenly, he says, “That sounds amazing. Thank you.”

“And don’t rush on my account. Baby has been more than patient with me. She deserves a good ride, and I’m happy to wait in the shade.” 

“Thanks, Castiel. You’re the best.”

“Have fun,” Castiel calls out. 

Castiel waves, and Dean grins as he nudges Baby’s sides with his heels, causing Baby to take off with a burst of speed. He laughs breathlessly as he steers her onto his preferred path, feeling lighter and happier than he ever remembers feeling, knowing without even having to look that Castiel’s eyes follow him until he disappears into the trees. 

He has no idea how long he’s been out with Baby by the time they’re both ready to come back, but he does know his good mood held, the sun is starting to get hot, and he’s starving. 

As he gets closer, he sees Cesar leaning against the stables and Castiel sitting in a patch of shade with a large wicker basket next to him. He dismounts from the horse, and Cesar approaches him, holding his hand out like he wants to take the reins. 

“I can clean her up,” Dean offers. 

“No, you should go ahead with the Prince, Your Highness,” Cesar says. “He’s been waiting a while. Lit up like a Christmas tree when you came back, though.”

He’s sure he lights up in a similar fashion just hearing that. “How long was I gone?”

“Not sure. You have a good ride, though?”

“Baby was awesome,” Dean says, patting her neck and reluctantly handing over her reins. “I’ll come back again tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you then, Your Highness. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that, but Cesar turns away to work with Baby, so Dean lets it go and walks over to where Castiel is waiting for him. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Dean says, offering a hand to help him up. 

Castiel takes it, then bends over to pick up the basket. “Not at all. It’s a beautiful day to sit outside with a book.” Dean nods his agreement, and Castiel continues, “Have you worked up an appetite yet?”

“I was just thinking that I was starving on my way back,” Dean says. 

“I was hoping you might say that. I thought we might have a picnic.”

“A picnic?” He looks down at the basket again, suddenly understanding its purpose. 

“Jo and Ellen were quite excited by the idea. If I’m not mistaken, there’s enough food in here to feed half the castle,” Castiel says, sounding amused. 

“That seems about right,” Dean chuckles. “Do you want to go sit in the garden to eat?”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Awesome. Want me to take the basket for you?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do after you’ve been working so hard this morning.”

“I am kinda looking forward to sitting down,” Dean concedes. 

“Lead the way, then,” Castiel orders. 

After working so closely together with Baby, Dean dislikes the unnecessary space between them now with a passion. They barely make it five steps before he feels too restless to stifle the pressing need to be closer to Castiel, so he impulsively loops his arm through Castiel’s without asking. Because Castiel wasn’t prepared, Dean’s hand slips down to Castiel’s wrist instead of catching in the bend of his arm. He’s about to apologize, but his heart flips in his chest when instead of fixing his arm, Castiel spreads his fingers in offering.

Dean catches his gaze to make sure they’re on the same page here, and Castiel erases any doubt when he takes Dean’s hand in his own with a shy smile. The size of the answering smile on his face in comparison is embarrassing, but amazingly, he’s pretty sure it gets even bigger when Castiel’s fingers thread between his. 

“Is this okay?” Castiel checks. 

“Yeah,” Dean says quietly, still stunned with the reality that he’s _holding hands_ with a man and he likes it. A lot. “It’s really okay.” 

Dean’s chest is filled to the brim with warmth while they walk in a comfortable silence across the castle grounds to the garden, where together, they pick a spot to unfold and set up the blanket Castiel pulls out of the picnic basket. Rufus stays outside the entrance to the garden, giving them at least the illusion of privacy, and it’s enough for Dean, at least, to forget all about him. 

Because the air between him and Castiel is so comfortable, he chooses to stay silent as they get settled in and enjoy a quiet lunch together made up of cold cuts, cheeses, crackers, fruit, and vegetables. Ellen used what was left of the apple cinnamon French toast topping to make mini pies for dessert, and Dean can’t think of anything better than indulging in his favorite treat with the man he’s becoming more and more fond of as time goes on. 

They chat about lighthearted topics to fill the silence, and with Castiel’s prompting, Dean gets back around to talking about Charlie and how they became friends. Castiel seems to find her and their friendship downright fascinating, and Dean finds himself answering question after question until he catches Castiel’s eye drifting to something behind him. 

“What ch’ya lookin’ at?” he wonders. 

Castiel brings his attention back to Dean, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. I’ve never seen some of the flowers you have here. Trying to place them while you’re talking doesn’t make me very good company. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it. Go check ‘em out.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel questions, but his eyes come alive like he just received a wonderful gift.

“Yeah. I can always yabber on about Charlie anytime. Go satisfy your curiosity.”

It’s a good thing he has nothing else planned for the afternoon, because like yesterday when Castiel got going with the chickens, he completely loses himself in looking at flower after flower. For Dean’s part, he doesn’t even particularly like flowers, but it only takes watching Castiel burying his nose in one and smiling nice and big to have him up off of the blanket and by Castiel’s side. 

There’s no way he’s missing a chance to see him smile up close again and again. 

Castiel points out the flowers he recognizes, spewing facts about them like an encyclopedia the whole time, and Dean manages to surprise him every now and then with names and a few details he’s retained from listening to his mom babble about them throughout his childhood. He finds it interesting that even though he’s not much of a flower guy, he’s undoubtedly enjoying spending this time here with Castiel. 

As they walk through every inch of the garden hand-in-hand, Dean feels comfortable and warm, and he speaks more freely about his life in the castle than he has so far. He tells Castiel how the greenhouse is Jo’s passion project, and how it’s because of her that they have so many fresh fruits and vegetables year-round. He divulges how the garden is his mom’s favorite place in the whole castle, how anytime she wanted him and Sam to be able to escape whatever was going on in the castle as kids, she would bring them out here so they could be surrounded by beauty instead of bureaucracy. He tells Castiel how this place has always been special to him, and although his cheeks flush, he admits how nice it is to be here with Castiel of all people. 

“One of the first things I was told about you before we met was that you like flowers,” Dean says on what has to be their sixth lap of the garden. “Of course, that was back when I thought you were a Princess.”

“Well, at least The King of the Hunters got one thing right,” Castiel says lightly. He points his finger to a bunch of small, bright blue flowers with yellow centers. “Look at that, you have my flowers.”

“What makes them your flowers exactly?” Dean wonders.

“Bugloss Anchusa,” Castiel says, as if that explains anything. His smile grows nice and wide at Dean’s obvious confusion before he finishes, “More commonly known as blue angel anchusa.”

“Blue angel,” Dean repeats with an answering smile, instantly understanding why these are Castiel’s flowers. “No wonder they’re so gorgeous.”

Castiel smiles softly, obviously pleased by the praise. “I always thought I’d have these flowers at my wedding.” The way he says it as he nervously fingers the tiny petals, it’s almost like he’s sharing a secret with Dean. “As a symbolic gesture of giving away a part of myself to the person I chose.”

“Then you’ll have them,” Dean promises.

Castiel turns to face him with a question in his eyes. “I was told all of the preparations were already well-underway for the wedding and to just go along with whatever the King and Queen decided.”

“I’ll find out who’s supplying the flowers and see if I can make an addition,” Dean shrugs. “I’m the Prince, and as much as I try not to take advantage of it when I can help it, I’m sure I can use what influence I have to get them to change some flowers a few days before the wedding. Consider it done.” 

Because Castiel seems so quietly stunned by his offer, Dean reaches over and plucks one of the bluest flowers, impulsively deciding to tuck it behind Castiel’s ear. Letting his fingertips drag across Castiel’s slightly stubbled cheek and down to his chin awakens such a strong surge of affection inside of him that his next words come to him without thinking.

“It’s a nice shade of blue, but your eyes still put it to shame,” Dean declares, turning Castiel’s head to the side to look at it more closely. Castiel is blushing adorably, and so Dean continues to say the entirety of what’s on his mind. “You deserve to have everything your heart desires, Castiel. If you want flowers, music, the stars from the sky, just tell me and I’ll do everything within my power to give you what will make you happy.”

“Being here with you is making me happier than I’ve ever been,” Castiel tells him. Castiel’s arms slip around his waist, gently urging Dean in to erase most of the space between them. 

He’s all too happy for the chance to be closer to Castiel, so he takes a step forward and allows his arms to slide down to rest his palms on Castiel’s chest. He never thought he’d be an affectionate kind of person, but with Castiel, he can’t seem to get close enough. Just feeling Castiel’s arms around him—so close that Castiel’s masculine scent is cutting through the fresh flowers all around them—has his heart rate picking up, and that’s _before_ he notices how deeply Castiel is gazing into his eyes. There’s a sweet, shy little smile curving Castiel’s lips that makes butterflies take flight in Dean’s stomach, and instinctively, he shuffles closer still. 

“I know it’s barely been two days since we met, but you... you’ve come to mean so much to me already, Dean. I don’t know how I would go back to life without you now that I know how it feels to be in the glow of your presence. Your smile. Your laugh.”

The air between them is so incredibly thick all of the sudden that Dean’s voice drops into a whisper without consciously meaning to. “Hopefully you’ll never have to know.”

He’s sure time stops altogether when Castiel slides one hand up his spine, over his shoulder and along his jaw to hold his chin steady with the crook of his knuckle. Castiel’s eyes flick down to his mouth and back up to hold his gaze, and there’s something brand-new and liquid hot burning inside of them that makes Dean feel like his heart has just stopped along with the passing of time. 

Castiel’s voice pierces through the silence and his words coil and tighten around the grip Castiel already has on his heart. 

“May I kiss you?”

Twenty different variations of “Yes!” are battling for the chance to come out of his mouth all at once, but there’s a calm surety at his core that he never expected to have at the precipice of his first kiss, and that’s how he knows this is right.

This moment, this place, this man.

He still doesn’t manage to settle on any one verbal response, but he does nod his consent. Castiel inclines his head, moves in just the tiniest little bit, and Dean’s _ready._ He wants this, wants his first kiss to be right here right now with Castiel, when it feels like the two of them are the only two people in the entire realm hidden here in the castle’s garden. He wets his lips in invitation and allows himself one final glance at the eyes that once again seem so blue they almost glow before his eyelashes hit his cheeks as his eyelids flutter closed. 

Castiel’s fingers spread along his face and curl around the back of his neck to hold him still, and when Castiel’s mouth finally, _finally_ meets his for the first time, he knows exactly what Castiel meant a minute ago about being warmed by a presence. Castiel’s lips are every bit as soft and warm as the sun shining down on his face, and he marvels at the perfect fit as they press gently back against his. Their lips move together carefully but without flaw, pressing firmly and releasing reluctantly, the building warmth inside his chest reminding him of how it feels when the sun breaks through the clouds on a rainy day. 

Though his senses are almost entirely focused on the sweet glide of their lips, he’s also distantly aware of the weight of Castiel’s palm resting on his cheek, the unique and undescribable scent of Castiel filling his nostrils, and the sound of insects buzzing and chickens clucking filling his ears. It’s so perfect that he sends a silent wish to the gods above to always remember each and every part of this, the most life-altering moment he’s experienced so far. 

Castiel’s thumb caresses his cheek as he pulls away no more than five seconds from the time their lips first met, and though it was admittedly a brief, chaste kiss, he has no doubt that the look of wonder he sees staring back at him is mirrored on his own face.

“You are flawless,” Castiel whispers, both hands now framing his face oh-so-carefully, like Dean’s something precious and irreplaceable. “Inside and out, and I promise you, not a day will go by after today that I don’t give thanks for the chance to win your heart, Dean.”

“Shit,” Dean says breathlessly, unable for think of anything more eloquent with the way his head is in the clouds. “You’re making my head spin, Cas.”

Castiel smiles, obviously pleased with himself. “If you enjoyed the last thirty seconds even half as much as I did, I can understand why. As far as I can see, there’s only one little problem moving forward.”

Dean can almost literally feel the blood drain from his face as fear sours his stomach. “D-did I do it wrong? Did I kiss like—”

Castiel shakes his head and smiles, cutting him off before he can finish asking if he kissed like a fish or something. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to be able to keep from kissing you every second of every day now that I know how unfathomably good it feels.”

 _Oh._ That really isn’t a problem, though. Not even a little one from where he’s standing. “Well, that was just our first kiss, so we should probably do it over a few times to make sure we’ve got it down anyway.”

“Have I mentioned what a brilliant mind you have?” Castiel asks, but Dean doesn’t have time to answer before those pale, pink lips are slotted between his once again. It’s a firmer kiss this time, a little bit more heat behind it, and he enjoys this one even more than the last. 

When Castiel tries to pull away just as fast as the last time, Dean chases him and coaxes him into a second kiss, clinging gently onto Castiel’s lips with his own as if his life depends on it. Castiel hums a quiet sound of affirmation as he returns the kiss, his plump, pillow-soft lips closing around Dean’s bottom lip and then the top, causing a shiver to run down Dean’s spine from the faint scratch of Castiel’s stubble scraping against his flesh. 

Castiel breaks the seal of their lips, leaning his forehead against Dean’s. Castiel’s eyes stay closed and his chest is heaving every bit as much as Dean’s, making Dean feel strong and powerful and alluring in a way he’s never experienced until now. 

“What are you doing to me, _en olapireta?”_ Castiel whispers quietly, sounding stunned. 

Dean draws his eyebrows together in confusion, and he’s about to ask Castiel to repeat that when a low voice catches his attention.

“Your Highness.” They both glance over at Bobby, who’s entered the garden now, looking reluctant to interrupt. “Prince Castiel’s guard is looking for him.”

Dean nods to let Bobby know he heard him, and Castiel sighs. “I’m sorry to cut this short. I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Yeah. You’re not gettin’ rid of me now.”

”I was hoping that would be the case,” Castiel responds, seeming every bit as reluctant to leave as Dean feels about him leaving. “Thank you for joining me for a picnic.”

He’s hoping for a quick peck before Castiel goes, but what he gets instead is a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead that has a stupid, dopey smile on his face the whole time he cleans up the picnic they had. 

He tries to keep a straight face when he walks past Bobby and Rufus on his way into the castle, but the uncharacteristic pair of manly slaps he gets on his back as he passes them lets him know his guards know _exactly_ what he and Castiel had been up to in the garden, and not only does the ridiculous smile stay firmly in place after that, he even has a little bounce in his step when he walks into the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

To say things are going well with Castiel would be an understatement. 

He remains fascinated by Castiel, and he enjoys the way they never seem to run out of things to talk about. The more time they spend together, the more at ease Castiel seems and the less Dean has to try to get Castiel to loosen up. He’s absolutely smitten with the looser, more easy-going version of Castiel, and now that he knows he doesn’t have to, he finds it quite difficult to keep his hands off him. They share two more kisses Monday night: one stolen in the shadows while they’re walking with Jess and Sam that leaves him pink-cheeked with a bounce in his step, and one Monday night when Dean says goodnight at Castiel’s door. That one was more drawn out than any of their other kisses so far, and it left Dean not only feeling like his head was in the clouds, but like there was a fire burning at his core, as well. He falls asleep that night hoping that the next day will be even half as good as the previous one.

Things are a little bit different on Tuesday, because it’s the only day in the week when Dean has training in the afternoon. It means they get to have a bigger breakfast that morning without Dean having to rush through it, but it also means battle training in the afternoon sun. Dean dresses for it in a thin, forest green linen shirt that hangs loosely to his elbows. It has a golden trim at the sleeves, hemline, and at the deep v-neck, and he finishes it off with a bulky golden belt he’ll be able to clip his sheath to later and the same kind of stretchy pants and boots he wore the day he met Castiel. 

Castiel is in royal blue slacks with boots to his knees, as usual, and they’re paired with an almost see-through, baby blue shirt decorated with metal wings coming off of the shoulders like armor.  There’s also a cascade of glittery stones falling down from the wings on his back, and though he doesn’t know what they are or what material this shirt is made of, he does know Castiel looks absolutely gorgeous in it. The sunlight reflects off of the stones, and it distracts him several times during training until Castiel seems to catch on and goes to sit in the shadows.

As usual, he can feel Castiel watching his every move, and by the time his pointers have helped six of his men to hit the bullseye with their short blades for the first time, he’s so covered with sweat he’s actually slippery with it. He could fall to his knees with relief when his training is finished and he learns Castiel has a glass of ice-cold lemonade waiting for him when he’s able to walk over there, and judging by the amused smile on Castiel’s face, he can tell how badly he needed it. 

“You look like a human drip,” Castiel says, sounding concerned. 

“Gee, thanks Cas,” Dean says dryly. 

“An incredibly handsome human drip, of course,” Castiel rephrases, obviously placating him. “How do you survive this in the summer?” 

Dean holds up his finger while he drains the glass, then answers between panting breaths. “Shorter classes, longer breaks, lots of water.”

“And a dip in the pond, perhaps?” Castiel asks knowingly.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Who told you about the pond?”

“You mentioned it before, but when I went to fetch you a cold drink, Jo said you might want to head out that way to cool down. I’m sure the water is still too cold for swimming, but it might be refreshing just to dip your feet in the water,” Castiel suggests.

“You know what? That actually sounds amazing. There’s shade out there, too.” As he says that, he notices for the first time they’re being watched by several of the men he was just working with. He realizes suddenly that the two of them are standing quite close together—much closer than two friends would stand—and perhaps that’s why they’re drawing so much attention. Or maybe he’s slightly paranoid and it’s just because Castiel is a foreign prince. “And not so many people.”

Castiel’s smile flashes quickly, and Dean knows they’re both on the same page. “Would you like to sit and rest first? I saw how hard you were working out there. You took my breath away all over again.”

“If I don’t go now, there’s a good chance you won’t be able to move me until after a nap.” He takes Castiel’s hand in his as they start to walk towards the forest. “Tell me more about how awesome I looked,” Dean prompts. 

Castiel doesn’t disappoint. He goes on and on about Dean’s stamina, his confidence in the field, and how accurate he is with a knife before things take an interesting turn. “I hope my father brings my angel blade along with him,” Castiel says. “I’d love to see what you can do with one of those.”   
“I’ve never even heard of an angel blade. What’s different about them and every other knife?”

“Hmmm.” Castiel tilts his head back and forth, like he’s debating how to answer. “There are many differences, but two things I think might interest the Hunter in you the most is that the angel blade never dulls, and it’s perfectly balanced.”

“Never dulls?” Dean questions.

“That’s right,” Castiel confirms. 

“How is that even possible?”   


“It’s because of the material it’s made from. Extremely rare and entirely infallible.”

He’s never heard of anything like this before. “Some fancy metal you can only get in the LOA that’d cost an arm and a leg to buy, I’m guessing?”

Castiel laughs much harder than his joke warrants, but answers, “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

He knows he’s being left out of the joke, but Castiel is laughing, so he finds it hard to care. He’ll figure it out when he gets his hands on the angel blade Castiel was talking about anyway. They’re almost there by now, and as they pass into the sporadic shade provided by the trees overhead, he notices a distinct lack of eyes on them. Just to be sure, he turns around, and as he suspected, there are no guards behind them.

“Wonder what happened to Bobby and Rufus?” 

“Oh, Gabriel insisted it was his turn to make himself useful,” Castiel explains. 

Which is great, except Gabriel is nowhere to be found. “Not that I can’t protect us if I need to, but you should probably know my guys will have Gabriel’s head if they find him sleeping on the job.”

“He’s just there in the line of trees,” Castiel says, pointing him out. Dean sees him now, just much further back than he was looking. His guards would never leave so much distance between them. Like Castiel can read his mind, he continues, “He’s so used to me being surrounded by people—photographers, press, and crowds of onlookers—any time I step foot out of our castle that he’s much more relaxed with his security here. He’s comfortable enough to give us a little bit more space than your guards, but despite his laid back attitude, I assure you he’s more than capable of keeping us safe if needed. No question.” Dean nods, trusting Castiel’s opinion. “Besides,” he adds. “I’m not opposed to a little bit more privacy with you.”

His heart thuds hard in his chest at the very suggestion. “Oh really?” Dean asks, dragging out the  _ e _ sound. “Why’s that?”

Castiel releases his hand to put his arm around him, and Dean feels his cheeks turn pink when Castiel’s lips brush his temple. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

His mind somehow manages to go completely blank  _ and _ simultaneously fill with all the different reasons Castiel would want more privacy with him. Castiel’s proximity combined with the ideas in his head makes it hard to pull himself out of his thoughts and remember to focus on what they’re supposed to be doing, but when he catches sight of the pond in front of him, he remembers.

He releases Castiel’s hand as they get closer, and drops to his butt on the bank beside it to pull off his boots. “What are you waiting for?” he asks Castiel. “A formal invitation?”

“I’m not likely to get one from you, now am I?” Castiel teases, but still, he hesitates. “Is the water safe?”

“I can guarantee no sharks,” Dean promises. 

Castiel shakes his head slightly in amusement but he sits to remove his boots, too, so Dean takes it as a win. Castiel joins him only a minute later, and he hopes the negligible space he leaves between them means that Castiel is enjoying the chance to be close to one another without an audience as much as he is.

He’s the first to dip his feet into the pond, and after being trapped in his leather boots all day, the relief of the cool water is extraordinary. “Sweet gods above, that feels fantastic,” he sighs dreamily. 

“Well, you’ve officially sold me on the experience,” Castiel declares. Dean watches as Castiel rolls his pants half way up his calves and slowly lowers his feet into the water next to his. “Oh, you’re right. That feels remarkably refreshing.”

“Told you.”

Dean leans back on his hands, watching as Castiel swirls his feet around in the water with a small smile on his face. “Almost makes me wish I knew how to swim.”

“No fancy heated pools in the LOA?” Dean asks.

“Oh, I’m sure there are some. I’ve just never been all that interested in swimming, and seeing as my chances of drowning in my kingdom were next to nil, it wasn’t something I was forced into.”

“I’ll have to teach you sometime,” Dean says. “I learned out here, but I was a lot smaller back then. This isn’t too deep, though. It only goes to my shoulders, so you’d probably be able to stand in it okay.”

“Probably?” Castiel repeats. “I doubt you have an inch of height on me.”

“Please,” Dean scoffs. “I’m  _ at least _ an inch taller, and I’m probably not even done growing yet.”

“I suppose we’ll see.”   


“At least you’ll always be older,” Dean says, elbowing him gently to show him he’s joking.

“And wiser,” Castiel teases back.

“I suppose we’ll see,” Dean echoes, imitating his formal speech pattern.

Castiel leans back on his hands now, too, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t ever tell my father or yours, but I’m so glad you don’t speak like I do. I’m hopelessly endeared by the casual slang you use when you talk. I’ve never heard anybody with status talk like you do.”

“I’m one of a kind, what can I say?” Dean boasts. “You rub elbows with the rich and famous often, Cas?”   


_“Cas,”_ Castiel repeats curiously. “I think that’s the second time you’ve called me that today.”

“Oh,” Dean says, trying to think back to when that happened. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it. Is it okay?”

“I don’t mind it if it’s only us,” Castiel says. “But perhaps not in front of others just yet. I’d like people here to take me as seriously as possible.” Dean nods his understanding, and then Castiel answers his question about the other royalty he’s met. He’s met the Queen of the Demons  _ and _ the Queen of the Mages, but he hasn’t had any reason to meet the King of Purgatory or the King of the Empty. They talk briefly about how neither of them even know what the Empty and Purgatory  _ do _ in their lands, and Dean feels better knowing his kingdom isn’t the only one in the dark when it comes to that. Dean, too, has met the Queen of the Demons, but he’s surprised to hear Castiel speak of her with affection when he was never all that fond of her. 

“Wait a second, isn’t your kingdom in a war with the Demons right now?” Dean asks.

“We are. But that has little to do with the Queen.”

That doesn’t make much sense to him. “You don’t think she could order her people to leave yours alone? They’re trying to steal land that belongs to yours, aren’t they?”

“They are, and I’m sure she could, but that would only cause more problems for the Demon kingdom,” Castiel explains. “With the help from The Hunters, we’ll be able to force them back and she’ll be able to keep her position and her power, and then they’ll focus their attack somewhere else for a while.”

“You seem pretty chill about the whole thing. Pretty sure if another kingdom attacked mine, I wouldn’t spare a thought for what might make their lives easier,” Dean says.

Castiel shrugs. “Better the evil you know than the evil you don’t.”

That makes a strange kind of sense, though it's not something he’s heard before. 

“You and that level head of yours. Do you ever do anything without thinking about the consequences first?”

“I’ve been known to do it a time or two.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, curious now. “Like what?”

Castiel’s silent for a few seconds, and then a few more, and Dean waits him out until finally, Castiel huffs a bashful laugh and says, “I can’t actually think of anything off the top of my head.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got me to steer you in the wrong direction, then. Let’s do something crazy right now,” he decides.

“You’re already  _ being _ crazy,” Castiel responds, but his eyes are lit up with excitement. “What would you have us do?”

Dean looks around him, realizing the obvious solution literally lies at their feet. “Let’s go swimming.”   


“I just told you I can’t swim,” Castiel reminds him.

“And I told  _ you _ the water here isn’t that deep.”

“That’s true,” Castiel concedes. “Unfortunately, I don’t have my bathing suit on hand.”

“That’s the crazy part,” Dean says, wiggling his eyebrows. “You gotta strip down to your skivvies.”

Castiel’s jaw drops and his cheeks turn pink adorably fast. “I could never.”

“It’s only me,” Dean says. “We’re gonna get married, so it’s not like I’m not gonna see the goods sooner than later.”

“The goods!?” Castiel repeats, scandalized. “We’ve barely known each other for three days, Dean. If word got out that we were together and down to our underwear already—”

“People would understand why we got married so fast,” Dean interrupts. He adds another eyebrow wiggle for good measure, but if anything, that only seems to scandalize Castiel more, so he tries to soothe his flustered friend. “I promise I won’t look until you get in the water, if it’ll make you feel better.” 

Castiel chews on his lower lip, letting him know he’s at least contemplating his crazy request, and because Dean’s weirdly invested in this now, he’s ready to do what it takes to move things along. He gets to his feet and pulls the belt over his shirt loose, then strips his shirt off entirely. He drops it onto the ground in a heap, which leaves him in his sleeveless undershirt.

“Dean!” Castiel exclaims. “You're down to your underclothes! Anybody could see you!”

“Well, my pants are coming off next, so if anybody’s looking, they’re in for a real treat,” Dean teases. 

Castiel’s face is still just as pink as it was when Dean first mentioned the idea, but Dean notices with a bubbling warmth beneath his skin that Castiel doesn’t take his eyes off of him until he slips his fingers into the waistband of his slacks. Castiel whips his head around to look in the complete opposite direction then, and Dean laughs as he takes off his pants and tosses them at Castiel’s head.

Castiel yelps in surprise, and then bursts into laughter himself. “Did you seriously just throw your pants at me?” Dean grins as he slips off his undershirt and tosses that at him next. Castiel barely even flinches that time, and it amuses Dean to no end to think Cas was expecting him to do it again. “You really are insufferable, you know that?”

“Oh, I know,” Dean answers, completely unapologetic. “I’m also down to nothing but my boxer shorts, which means you’re the only one completely overdressed for swimming.”

He walks right past Castiel, entirely confident in his body and athletic build, secretly hoping he can goad Castiel into sneaking a peek as he lowers himself into the cool water. “Son of a bitch that’s cold,” he laments as he sinks in slowly. He knows from experience it only gets better once his whole body has been submerged, so he dunks his head to wet it, then comes up shaking his hair out like a dog, purposely spraying Castiel with as much water as he can.

“Dean!” Castiel scolds, holding his arms up to shield himself. 

Dean grins nice and wide, but says, “Whoops. Didn’t see you there.” 

When Castiel only gives him a look but stays stubbornly in place with his feet still in the water, Dean decides to test his patience a little further, and splashes a handful of water in his direction. 

“Would you stop?” Castiel asks, but he’s smiling now, and nothing could make Dean want to stop less. He also doesn’t think Cas really wants him to stop, so he splashes him again. “Jo was right. You really  _ are _ a child, aren’t you?”

“Come on, Cas,” Dean coaxes. “Come swimming with me. Do something crazy for once.” He can tell Castiel is thawing, so he lifts his eyebrows and clasps his hands together under his chin. “Pretty please?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, sighs heavily, and gets to his feet. Dean watches closely to see what he’s going to do, and just as Castiel’s fingers drop to the hem of his shirt, he says, “Forget the Hunter army. I propose we send  _ you _ to the front of the battlefield, instead.” Dean’s insulted for a second, but only until Castiel continues. “I feel certain no woman or man alive could have you look at them like that and deny you anything. We’ll just have you ask them to stop, and all of our problems will be solved.”

“Sure thing,” Dean says absently, catching a tantalizing glimpse of hard abdominal muscles as Castiel plays with his shirt. “Whatever you say, as long as you keep talking fancy to me while you strip.”

That’s enough to prompt Castiel to kick a clump of grass at him, which makes him throw his head back with a burst of laughter. Cas is so much fun when he lets himself go like this, and Dean can hardly believe he’s lucky enough to be the guy who’s going to spend his whole life pulling it out of him as often as he can. 

“You said you wouldn’t look,” Castiel says sharply.

Dean makes sure to roll his eyes before he turns his back, trying his hardest not to imagine what Castiel might look like without his clothes on while he hears the layers of Castiel’s clothing starting to hit the ground one at a time. Thankfully, his mind is kept (mostly) on track due to Castiel’s grumbling under his breath while he undresses. 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. I’ve already stooped to your childish ways and I’m not even in the water yet.  _ I kicked grass at you, _ for Heaven’s sake,” he says, like he can’t believe he did that. Dean hears the first sounds of the water splashing as Castiel lowers himself into it, and when he complains, “Holy shit, it’s  _ freezing _ cold!” Dean belly laughs again as he turns around to face him. 

And gets his first glimpse of Castiel without a shirt buttoned to his neck.

His smile fades into awe as he takes in the sight of Castiel’s broad shoulders, muscular and well-defined with water droplets clinging to what seems like acres of golden skin, and he’s suddenly completely unable to form words. Hell, he’s not even sure he’s _thinking_ in words, because it’s like his whole brain is stuck on the sight of how incredibly _masculine_ Castiel is. 

He’s never been more aware of the age difference between them as he is now, looking at the chiseled body of the man standing in front of him. Castiel is every bit as broad as he appears fully dressed, but more than that, he’s filled out in a way that Dean—a guy who spends five out of seven grueling days a week training with his upper body—is not. 

Without a doubt, Castiel’s body is absolutely breathtaking, and Dean’s torn somewhere between wanting to run his fingertips along the sharp indent of Castiel’s collarbone and wanting to duck under the water to make sure Castiel doesn’t get a chance to notice Dean’s shortcomings while he continues ogling Cas. 

“Please excuse my impertinence, Dean, but if I don’t take the chance to say how absolutely stunning you are right now, I’m not sure I would ever forgive myself.” Dean’s lips part in surprise, and his face feels like there’s flames licking at them despite the chill of the water. “In all the kingdoms in all the lands... good grace, Dean, no one can even begin to hold a candle to your beauty.”

He drops his gaze in his self-consciousness, lifting his feet and wading in the water just for something to do other than die of embarrassment right here in this pond. What Castiel said is nice to hear, of course, but there’s no way Castiel can look at him and think those thoughts after seeing himself in a mirror.

“I look like a... like a scrawny little kid next to you.”

“You don’t,” Castiel argues. “I promise you, you don’t,” he repeats quietly. “From where I’m standing, you are every bit as alluring as I feared you would be from the moment you were down to your undershirt. My gods, Dean, I can scarcely believe I’m having to tell you how physically attractive you are. Surely you’ve noticed I can’t keep my eyes off of you?”   


Dean shakes his head, because he really hasn't. Not outside the few times Castiel watched him while he was training or riding Baby yesterday. 

“I mean, I always thought my body looked okay until I saw you. Your shoulders and arms are fucking huge. I work out every day and I still don’t look anything like that.”

“You will,” Castiel replies gently. “I assure you I didn’t look like this when I was 19, either. I’m sure in time, you’ll not only tower over me by that one inch you insist you have, but you’ll put me to shame in breadth, as well.” Dean shakes his head again, not totally believing him, but starting to come around a little thanks to Castiel’s attempt at lightening the mood. “But until then, please believe that I am very, very pleased with the stunning young man standing in front of me in all of his beauty.”

Dean licks his lips, lifts his eyes, and figures if what Castiel is saying is true, then... “You’re standing awfully far away for a guy who’s supposedly so attracted to me.”

Castiel drifts slightly closer, explaining, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”   


“You won’t.”

“I’m also not entirely sure I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.” Castiel admits that with a sideways smile though, letting him know without saying it aloud that he absolutely can, he just doesn’t really want to. Dean likes that idea, and the knowledge emboldens him. 

“Nobody said you have to,” Dean replies. But the moment he says those words aloud, the possibility of Castiel touching him when he’s only in his underwear has his heart beating so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if it caused waves to form in the tiny pond.

“Was this your plan all along?” Castiel asks. “Parade yourself in front of me mostly naked in order to seduce me in the pond?”

Dean chuckles softly, closing more of the distance between them now that some of the sexual tension has been broken by the absurdity of the question. “First of all, I have no idea how to seduce you even if I wanted to,” Dean confesses. “But more importantly, I’m pretty sure me trying to make a significant move would do nothing but embarrass us both when the water is  _ this _ cold. I don’t even know if I’m gonna be able to find my junk after this.”

Castiel tips his head back and lets a low, rippling laugh free, his nose scrunched up adorably. “Is there really no boundary you won’t cross?”

“Hey, I’m keeping my hands off of you, aren’t I?”

“A pity,” Castiel quips. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind getting a little closer. For body heat, you know.”

Castiel nods slowly, his lips twitching with his poor attempt at hiding a smile. “It is rather cold.”

“Rather cold indeed,” Dean mimics. He swims up so that there’s only inches between them, blatantly using the chance to check out Castiel’s bare chest now that they’re closer together. It’s lightly dusted with chest hair, his pecs firm and distinct, and his dusty brown nipples are standing at attention. Dean wants to get his mouth on every glorious inch of him. “Turns out I’m  _ really  _ gay.”

Castiel snorts a laugh, reaching out tentatively between them to place his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “I am unbelievably glad to hear that considering the circumstances. Is it okay if I touch your shoulders, Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean croaks, his mouth suddenly as dry as the desert.” You’ve got free-rein pretty much anywhere above the waist.”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I’m captivated by your freckles.” Castiel’s voice has quieted due to their proximity, and combined with his big hands sliding slowly from his shoulders down to his biceps and back up, it causes goosebumps to pop up all along Dean’s skin. “I had hoped they’d be on more of your body than just your face.”

He’s pretty sure his brain has completely left the building at this point, so he just blurts out the first thing that occurs to him. “Been thinking about my body, huh?”

“I’ve been thinking about  _ you,”  _ Castiel responds, the truth of his words mirrored in his steady gaze. “Sometimes it seems I’ve been unable to think of anything but you since the moment you opened the castle door.”

He feels warm all over, his mouth is still bone dry, and he’s never been more aware of his body in his entire life. What is he doing with his hands in the water so awkwardly between them? Why are his shoulders curved inwards and his breaths coming out so short and fast? 

“You’re really good at this whole flirting thing,” Dean breathes.

“I’m only being honest with you. I know we haven’t known each other long, but... I’ve never felt like this before.”

_ Oh, _ his heart. Whether it’s due to affection, hope, or desire, or a mixture of all three, he feels like it’s fit to burst. “Me neither.” He tries to swallow down the dryness in his throat and gently lays his palms on Castiel’s chest. The other man’s body is warm despite the cold water they’re currently standing in, and it motivates him to flatten his hands and spread his fingers, watching the way his arms move with the rise and fall of Castiel’s heavy breathing. “I really like you, Cas.”

Castiel’s wet hand brushes his cheek, and he’s smiling softly when he says, “I assure you, the feeling is entirely mutual.” 

Castiel leans in slowly, and this time, he’s ready for it. He meets Castiel halfway where their lips come together in a firm, startlingly heated kiss right from the beginning. Dean surges into it, kissing Castiel even harder, wanting more now that they finally have the privacy they haven’t had the last few times they've kissed, and Castiel answers his wordless plea when his lips part Dean’s. 

Nerves and inexperience stifles some of the heat that was building inside of him, and he freezes, unsure what to do now. Castiel’s fingers stroke his cheek softly, and he takes advantage of the extra space Dean’s open mouth provides by taking more of his bottom lip between his and sucking gently. Dean inhales a sharp breath as pleasure shocks his system, and when Castiel does the same thing a second time, he reciprocates and draws Castiel’s lip into his mouth, as well.

Castiel makes a low, contented little sound Dean  _ feels _ reverberate under his skin, and he gives into the sudden need to be closer still. He wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck, feeling a full-body shudder wrack him as their chests collide and he feels Castiel’s hardened nipples rub against his chest. Castiel’s body is so fucking firm, and being surrounded by his muscular arms and pressed up against his rock-hard chest at the same time has his head spinning and his body reacting in a way that would definitely be a problem if it weren’t for the cold water.

Castiel pulls away, his lips parted and eyes dark, and he’s so fucking gorgeous Dean could weep with it. 

“Heaven above,” Castiel breathes, and Dean’s nodding in agreement as he tries to catch his breath. “Your lips, Dean.”

“More,” Dean begs. Castiel takes the bait, capturing his mouth in an equally heated kiss that has fire racing through his veins from the moment their lips touch. Their lips glide together seamlessly, and each time Castiel tilts his head one way or another, Dean mirrors it instinctively, doing everything he can think of to make their mouths line up as closely and as perfectly as possible. They kiss for so long his lips start to feel puffy, raw, and overused, but still, he actually,  _ genuinely _ whines at the loss when Castiel’s mouth leaves his. But Castiel isn’t done with him yet, and a brand new fire begins burning inside of him when Castiel’s lips start a blazing trail along his jaw. 

_ “Oh,” _ Dean says breathlessly, too far gone in sensation to think about how stupid he might sound. He tips his head back as Castiel’s mouth moves down, and when he feels something warm and wet on his pulse point, he realizes Castiel has opened his mouth and is tasting his skin the exact same way Dean fantasized about the moment he saw Castiel’s bare chest. The faintest hint of suction causes every thought to go flying from his brain and an electric-like shock to shoot straight between his legs, and he moans low in his throat as he clutches at Castiel’s shoulders.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers as he pulls away. “You’re so beautiful,  _ en olapireta. _ So endlessly beautiful.”

He sees a flash of electric blue in Castiel’s eyes that tugs on his insides, but then their lips come together again, clashing messily this time, their eagerness and inexperience making it sloppy and wet but so fucking good Dean doesn’t know how he’s ever supposed to stop wanting this. He feels the tip of something warm and wet slide against his lower lip, and it’s a shock to his system for about three seconds before he realizes it must be Castiel’s tongue.

His mouth parts in surprise, and the next thing he knows, the very tip of Castiel’s tongue touches his. It causes a rushing force to build beneath his ribs, a sharp stab of something new and exciting to spike low in his belly, and without having any idea what he’s supposed to do, he does what feels natural and lets his own tongue pass through his open lips to find Castiel’s. He hears Castiel’s abrupt intake of breath once they meet, and before he has a chance to second-guess himself, Castiel begins caressing Dean’s tongue with his.

It’s a sensation unlike anything he’s ever felt, but considering his heart is beating a mile a minute and his brain is now filled with a white, static buzzing as his cock strains to harden more than half-way, he’s pretty sure he’s into it. Like, really,  _ really _ into it. Each time Castiel’s tongue moves against his, a new shock of pleasure rips through him, and  _ gods,  _ this is what he wants to be doing every second of every day for the rest of his life. 

He wants Castiel’s body hard and warm against him, his big hands straying from his face to roam all over his body, slipping under his clothes to discover the parts of himself he’s never shared with another. He wants to feel Castiel’s manhood harden under his touch, to know without a doubt that Castiel’s desire for him burns as hot as his does for Castiel, and he wants to kiss and touch and move together often enough that he becomes just as skilled at making Castiel breathless as he is on the battlefield. He wants to hear Castiel moan and groan because of  _ him, _ and by gods, he has a burning need to hear the sound Castiel would make when Castiel reaches his peak and spills over his fingers the same way Dean spills over his own while thinking about Castiel.

The thought alone has a high-pitched, needy little whimper escaping him, and pleasure rips through him like lightning when Castiel damn near  _ growls _ against his lips. With no specific plan in mind other than getting closer still, he erases the last two inches of space between their lower bodies and presses himself up against Castiel. Their pelvises line up almost exactly and his head starts spinning so fast he feels dizzy when the plump length of Castiel’s semi-erection becomes obvious against his hip.

Unbridled pleasure wracks him head to toe, and he has to pull away, to bury his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck while he pants and tries to think through the fog of lust in his brain.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice is low the way he expected it to be, but there’s an edge of something else that instantly has his back up. “We have an audience.”

It takes several seconds for his words to sink in, but once they do, Dean frowns. When he pulls away and looks to the side, he sees Gabriel standing there with something in his arms and a shit-eating grin on his face. He feels like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but he's glad Castiel doesn’t push him away. Although Dean moves enough so that he’s no longer hanging off of Castiel, Castiel winds a protective arm around him that keeps him nice and close.

“What do we have here?” Gabriel asks, looking pointedly at the ground scattered with their clothes and then back at the two of them.

“It’s a warm day. We decided to go swimming,” Castiel says. And Dean has to give it to him, he sounds completely unshaken, like what the two of them were just caught doing wouldn’t cause Rufus or Bobby to drop dead of a heart attack if they were the ones who discovered them like this.

“Funnily enough, I came out here to give you these,” Gabriel says. He dumps what’s in his hands, and Dean notices then that it’s two towels. “Jo brought them out to me. Seemed to think you might need them.”

“Jo’s a very astute woman,” Castiel says. “Thank you for the towels. You’re welcome to return to your lookout now.”

Gabriel laughs at Castiel’s blatant dismissal, but says, “Alright. But I’m watching you, so keep it PG.”

“Keep it what?” Dean asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Castiel says, turning his back to Gabriel and returning all of his attention to him. “I’m so sorry, Dean. He always has the absolute worst timing.”

“It’s okay,” Dean says, though he’s definitely feeling a sinking sense of disappointment. “Probably not the best idea to keep going the way we were anyway.”

“We probably shouldn’t have let things get so far as they did,” Castiel says quietly.

Dean swallows down his nerves and uncertainty about this specific topic to ask, “How come?”

“That’s not how courting works when you’re royalty,” Castiel explains. “We’re expected to keep things chaste until we get married.”

“Yeah, well, we should also get to choose the person we marry, and that choice was taken away from us,” Dean says. “I mean, obviously it worked out pretty well, but as far as I’m concerned, my dad can choke on the rest of the rules when it comes to me.” Castiel seems amused by his declaration, so he adds, “Besides. We’re going to be married in like, four days. What difference does it make if we fool around now or then? It’s going to happen either way.”

Castiel leans in to press their lips together gently. “I don’t want to be the kind of man who tells another what is okay or not okay to do with their own body, even if it may go against what society expects from us. If you’re comfortable and sure with what just happened between us—”   


“I am,” Dean says.

“Then I am not a strong enough man to deny either of us,” Castiel admits, his smile spreading. He runs his hand down Dean’s cheek gently, quietly stating, “I have never experienced anything so wondrous as feeling your body against mine.” Dean nods his agreement, too lost for words to voice his feelings on the matter. “Would you like to get out and warm ourselves in the sun?” Castiel asks.

Dean contemplates, but asks, “Swim with me a little longer?”

“Of course.”

They stay free with their touches, but knowing Gabriel is watching them takes most of the heat away from them. Dean splashes Castiel several times until Castiel finally breaks and splashes him back, and the two of them wind up in a water fight that has them both laughing so hard they can’t breathe. They only call a truce when Castiel notices Dean is so cold he’s shaking. Castiel gets out of the pond first, then insists on helping Dean out. Castiel keeps his eyes on his face instead of his boxer shorts that are all but see-through now while he wraps first Dean and then himself in a towel, and Dean feels warmth begin to seep back into his skin with each steady pass of Castiel’s hands up and down his towel-covered body. 

They lie side by side in the grass, Castiel on his back and Dean on his stomach, waiting for the sun to dry their bodies. They keep their towels covering their groins, but even with Gabriel keeping a close eye on them, neither of them seem to worry much about their bare chests and legs being exposed. Though he has no idea how they wound up on the topic, Dean listens with interest as Castiel drones on and on about the different modes of transportation they have in the LOA, from flashy cars and motorized scooters to private jets, realizing for the first time that as much as he would happily listen to Castiel talk forever, Castiel is giving up so much to be here with him.

Feeling thoughtful, Dean looks down at the grass dancing in the breeze, too afraid to look Castiel in the eyes when he asks this. “Won’t you miss all that stuff when you move in here for good?”

“I thought I might when I left,” Castiel divulges, and his tone is serious enough that it pulls Dean’s gaze back to him. Castiel smiles softly and reaches over to run his fingertips over the freckles spread over Dean’s back. “But it didn’t take long to learn that I care more about one particular person than I ever have about a car.” His skin is burning. Maybe from Castiel’s touch, maybe from the sun, maybe from the things he’s saying. “I fancy you, Dean, not fancy stuff.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes quietly, too overwhelmed with emotion to adequately voice any of it.

This time it’s him who leans down to close the distance between them, but Castiel who opens his mouth in offering. When Dean’s tongue slips inside Castiel’s mouth, he becomes re-acquainted with the crisp taste of him, and as his body reacts to the flavor with a quiet hum of satisfaction, he realizes he likes it every bit as much as he likes Castiel’s natural scent. 

Castiel takes control of the kiss with a deft flick and soothing roll of his tongue that makes Dean feel like his bones are melting, and he’s just a malleable heap of a human after that. He’s sure he would lie here with Cas beneath him forever, exploring and learning every nook and cranny of Castiel’s mouth with his lips and tongue, so it’s up to Castiel to bring it to an end. Which he does, gradually, like he doesn’t want this moment to end any more than Dean does. Castiel withdraws a little bit at a time, first with his tongue, then by closing his mouth, and finally, painstakingly slowly, he separates their lips entirely. 

“They can keep their fancy cars,” Castiel says quietly. “Your lips are my idea of luxury.”

He’s sure he would have responded with something equally smooth, but he’s startled by the sound of a slow clap interrupting their perfect moment. He and Castiel both turn towards the sound with annoyance, only to see Gabriel applauding the two of them. 

“Excellent execution!” Gabriel calls out. “Ten out of ten! Two enthusiastic thumbs up! Five stars!”

He’s so over-the-top ridiculous and Castiel looks so absolutely murderous from being interrupted, that Dean can’t help it when a laugh bubbles out of him. Castiel looks at Dean with betrayal, and somehow that only makes it funnier, causing more laughter to escape and grow into a belly-shaking roar that sucks Castiel in with him.

_ Maybe _ it has something to do with the lingering high from their kisses, but Dean’s pretty damn sure Castiel’s laugh has never sounded more beautiful. 


	7. Chapter 7

_“A word, Your Highness?”_

_Dean is once again floating down the hallway after a bone-melting goodnight kiss from Castiel when he does an emotional 180 at the sound of Bobby’s voice. Bobby doesn’t interfere unless he needs to, so being called aside like this can’t be a good thing. It’s even worse when he follows Bobby to the sitting room and sees Rufus and Ellen waiting for him._

_“What’s all this?” he asks. Then a sobering, gut-wrenching possibility hits him. “Mom? Dad?”_

_“They’re fine, far as we know,” Bobby says. “I wanna talk to you about The Prince.”_

_It’s amazing how fast his back can go up under the right circumstances. “How’s he any of your business?”_

_“Relax, Your Highness.” Ellen’s calm voice only perturbs him more. “We aren’t comin’ for your man.”_

_“We like him,” Bobby says._

_“Like him with you. For you,” Ellen adds, and he relaxes slightly after hearing that. “It’s nice to see you happy, sir.”_

_“You’re good for each other,” Bobby declares. That’s sweet enough as it is, but coming from_ Bobby _puts it on a whole other level. “But that ain’t to say we’re not seeing things that would send The King to an early grave.”_

_He still doesn’t have a fucking clue where this is going, but if it’s going to be some stupid lecture about holding hands with Cas out in the open, he doesn’t really want to hear it._

_“And?” Dean questions._

_“And you’re being young and stupid,” Bobby says. Before Dean can try to defend himself, Bobby speaks again. “And we’re inclined to let you_ keep _bein’ young and stupid.”_

_Dean blinks, not quite understanding what he’s hearing. “I’m not really following.”_

_“Your Daddy’s a good King, a decent leader, and one hell of a warrior,” Bobby says. Dean can’t argue with any of that. “But I’ve known him since before you were born, and I don’t think he’d put up much of a fight if he heard me say what I’m about to.” Dean waits, curious now about where Bobby’s going with this. “He’s a poor excuse for a father and always has been.”_

_He’s stunned absolutely silent. He’s definitely thought the same thing a time or two, and he knows Sam, being the second-born and therefore first overlooked for his whole damn life when it comes to their dad, thinks even less of him. But never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d hear something_ like this _come out of his right-hand man._

_“Chances are, he’s gonna show back up here in a couple days’ time and do everything in his power to have that prince of yours out on his ear,” Bobby says next._

_“He can’t,” Dean insists, his heart clenching with fear at the very possibility. “Me and my dad both signed the contract. I have a copy of it and I’ve read it over a dozen times since Castiel showed up here. There’s nothing in it that says Castiel has to be a woman in order for the marriage to be valid.”_

_“You willing to let me have a look at that for you, Your Highness?” Rufus asks._

_Still not totally getting what’s going on here, Dean asks, “Why?”_

_Bobby looks him dead in the eye and asks, “If you didn’t have to, would you want to marry Castiel, son?”_

_There’s three pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly, and it gives him pause long enough to really consider how he would feel if he had a choice. Does he want to get married, or does he just think he has to? Does he want to spend the rest of his life with Castiel? What would that even look like?_

_For the first time, he really and truly ponders the possibility. Breakfast, dinner, and evenings spent with Castiel every day forever. Conversation that never seems to dry up entirely, and a comfortable sense of belonging even when it stalls every now and then. Laughter, teasing, and a deep affection layered under every word. Warm, loving touches that make him feel like Castiel’s realm revolves around him, and not because he’s future king, but because of the person he is. A lifetime filled with kisses that take his breath away. The endearing way Castiel smiles with his eyes sometimes, and the eye crinkles when he smiles with his whole face. Falling asleep and waking up with Castiel beside him in his bed, bare-chested and breath stale from sleep._

_“Yeah,” he replies, breathless and pink-cheeked from the realization. “I want a chance to fall in love with the person I marry, and I think he’s my best shot outta everybody so far.”_

_Ellen looks like she might cry. “We think so, too. And we’re going to do what we can to make it happen for you, Your Highness.”_

_“Dean,” he tells her for the millionth time. “And I love that you’re on my team here, but why are you?” he asks. “My dad pays your salaries. You should be loyal to him, not me.”_

_Oh_ shit. _Is this some kind of a trap? A test of his loyalty? Has he already failed?_

_“The only reason most of us are still here is because of you boys,” Bobby tells him._

_Dean blinks, still dumbfounded. “Us? Why?”_

_Ellen shakes her head, clearly just as exasperated as he is. “You don’t know how good you are, son. It’s one of the things that makes you so damn likable. You might whine a little, but you never try to get outta your responsibilities, never give your teachers a hard time, and you’re smart as a whip to boot.” He opens his mouth to argue that Sam’s the smart one in the family, but Ellen lifts her hand to stop him. “I’m not done. You’re kind to everybody, don’t matter if they’re help or royalty. You work your tail off in the stables. You make us laugh around here, which was something a lot of us forgot how to do before you came along. You take care of my Jo, your brother, the castle’s men, hell, we even saw you come check on The Queen before she left. You’re a good man, a good prince, and_ you _are the kind of King this kingdom needs to lead them.”_

_“And that’s why we want to do what we can to keep you happy,” Bobby says. “An old, dried up King bitter with his kingdom for being forced into marryin’ for anything other than love ain’t gonna do a hell of a lot of good for the people he’s supposed to stand for.”_

_Finally given a chance to speak, he says, “I don’t do any of that stuff to be a good prince or future king. I’m nice to people because it’s the decent thing to do. I treat the servants with kindness because as far as I’m concerned, you aren’t just servants. You guys are my extended family. Jeez, Ellen. I think I’ve spent more time with you than I have my mom. You’re like my other mom. Jo’s like my kid sister. If I didn’t treat you well, I’d expect a cuff upside the back of my head, and I’d damn well deserve it.”_

_Ellen places a hand over her heart like she’s touched, but looks to Bobby instead of him when she replies. “He has no idea.”_

_“Not a one,” Bobby agrees. Bobby turns back to him, then, and says, “If you’ve got a copy of that contract The King made you sign, I’d like to have some people take a look at it.”_

_Dean’s insides turn ice-cold with fear. “I can’t have people knowing what we agreed to.”_

_“I know what’s at stake,” Bobby assures him, except Dean knows that he doesn’t. The part about Sam can’t get back to anybody, because if Sam finds out, the shit will hit the fan in a big way. Bobby shakes his head like he’s disappointed, and his tone of voice—quiet but tired—confirms it. “Have I not shown you every damn day of your life that I’ve got your back?”_

_Feeling properly chastised now, he drops his chin to his chest. “You have, Bobby. Of course you have. I’ll get you the paperwork, you just need to give me your word that what’s in there will never get back to Sam.”_

_To his credit, Bobby only looks surprised for a moment. “You have my word.”_

_And that’s as good as it’s going to get. “Want me to get them now?”_

_“In a minute. There’s one other thing,” Bobby says, looking to Ellen now._

_“Seeing as there’s no chance of either you or the Prince getting pregnant before the wedding, we’ve made the executive decision that you’re no longer going to be supervised at all times,” she says. “You will be protected when you’re outside of the castle, but you do behind closed doors before your dad comes back and the shit hits the fan ain’t any of our business. That said, there’s been some supplies left on your bed if you’d like to use ‘em.”_

_Getting pregnant before the wedding? He and Castiel? Behind closed doors? Surely she isn’t talking about what it sounds like she’s talking about._

_“Supplies?” Dean asks cautiously._

_“Condoms and lubricant, ya idjit,” Bobby says gruffly, and_ that’s _enough to have his face turning as red as a tomato._

_It doesn’t help that Ellen and Rufus snicker at his reaction, but considering they’re all on board with giving him the privacy and permission to do what he didn’t expect to get a chance to do until after the wedding, he’s not about to complain about it._

_“We’ll stand guard at the end of the hallway as usual, but we’re not gonna make you keep your door open or stand outside it when it’s closed,” Rufus says._

_“There are some things you can’t unhear,” Bobby says wisely. Dean’s eyes all but pop out of his head when he realizes what Bobby is alluding to, Ellen and Rufus crack up, and for once, Dean’s glad he’s already blushing as hard as humanly possible so it can’t get any worse._

_“Alright. Are we done now? This is just as bad as the birds and the bees talk my mom tried to have with me when I was 12,” he groans. Scarred him for life._

_“You didn’t look at her for a week after that,” Ellen says knowingly._

_“So you’ll understand the lack of eye contact until after the wedding then,” Dean says dryly, and they all laugh again._

_“You’re free to go, but I want that contract,” Bobby tells him._

_“I’ll bring it down with me before I get Castiel in the morning,” he promises. It’s awkward, but he forces himself to say, “Thanks for having my back. All of you.”_

_“Anytime, honey. Anytime,” Ellen promises. He stops on his way out to shake both Rufus and Bobby’s hands, and drops a kiss on the top of Ellen’s head. She pushes him away with a gentle scoff, but he’s pretty sure he hears her sniffle about it before he leaves the room. The last thing he hears come from behind him is her voice, high-pitched and weepy, saying, “I’m so damn proud of him.”_

_And even though he racks his brain long after he turns out the lights, he can’t remember the last time he’s heard that._

“Dean?” Castiel asks, jarring him back to the present.

He sends Cas a sheepish smile, knowing he just got caught not paying attention to whatever he was saying. “Sorry. What?”

Castiel sits up straighter in the armchair he has been lounging in. “That’s the third time today I’ve lost you mid-conversation. I sincerely hope you’re not about to tell me that you’re getting bored of me already.”

Because Cas sounds genuinely worried, he turns around so that while he’s still sitting at his feet, he’s facing him now instead of away from him. He places one hand on Castiel’s surprisingly muscular thigh and gives it a little rub. “No, of course not.”

Castiel must not believe him though, because he says, “It’s okay. I know I haven’t been a very fascinating conversationalist today.”  
That’s not it, though. The thing is, he and Castiel have unintentionally fallen into a rhythm. Every day, they have breakfast at nine with Gabriel, Castiel watches his training, and then they explore the castle grounds in the afternoons before breaking to clean up before dinner. They eat with Sam and sometimes Jess, and then depending on what those two have planned afterwards, they either spend time together as the four of them, or hang out just him and Cas. 

And all of that went to shit today because it’s the first time since Castiel has been here that the weather hasn’t cooperated. The castle isn’t small by any means, but there isn’t a whole lot to do inside to keep them entertained all day and all night, and coupled with his mind constantly drifting back to the conversation he had with Bobby, Rufus, and Ellen last night, he’s not being very good company for Castiel. And now Castiel somehow thinks that’s his fault, and no matter what, he’s not going to let that happen. 

“Cas, no,” Dean says quietly. “That ain’t it. I would literally listen to you read the dictionary and I’d be fascinated.”

Castiel cocks his head to the side. “What is it then?”

Half the reason he’s been thinking about it so much is because he’s been debating whether or not to tell Cas about what happened last night, but he hasn’t been able to come to a solid decision. He knows they’re going to be married, but he doesn’t know how much of the behind-the-scenes stuff about his dad he should share before they’re officially family. Will Castiel think less of him, less of The King, less of their kingdom if he knows the people within these walls are so willing to turn their back on his dad?

Could he even blame Castiel if he did? 

Add in that he doesn’t want Castiel to feel pressured by their newfound freedom, and Dean’s just been... restless.

“There’s just some stuff going on that has to do with the kingdom,” he admits. “I’m doing a shitty job of not letting it seep into everything else. I wanna talk to you about it but I don’t really know...”

“How much you can trust me,” Castiel finishes for him. And instead of being angry or hurt like Dean feared, Castiel reaches out to cup his face with those big, gentle hands of his. “I don’t hold that against you, Dean. This time last week you didn’t even know I existed.” Dean turns his head to the side to kiss the center of Castiel’s palm, which earns him a remarkably soft smile. 

“And a much sadder life it was without you,” he says teasingly, although there’s truth to his words, too. 

“Mmhmm. Who _would_ you be ignoring in order to solve all the realm’s problems if it weren’t for me?” Castiel wonders.

Dean’s lips quirk into a smile. “Nobody so gorgeous as you.”

Castiel’s eyes are dancing with laughter when he leans in to plant a soft kiss to his lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Dean’s the one who moves in for another more substantial kiss before Cas can get too far away, and because everything else melts away when Cas kisses him and he could really use the mental break, he slides his hand into the thick hair at the back of Castiel’s head to keep him in place to draw it out even longer. They open their mouths to one another, causing a heady rush of arousal and affection to gather in his chest as Castiel licks his way into his mouth, and he feels all of his worries fade away. It’s only him and Cas, the incredible fit of their lips and tangle of their tongues, and he wants to stay just like this and learn—

“Hey De— _ugh,_ gross!” 

Dean and Castiel pull apart to see Sam standing in the doorway looking like he just stepped in horse shit. It’s a struggle to clear his head of the fog Castiel always manages to put there, and switching so quickly from, _Oh, this is nice,_ to _there’s my annoying little brother_ makes his voice come out harder than he meant it to. 

“Can I help you?” he asks irritably. “Kinda in the middle of something.”

Sam gives him a look of reproach and says, “Yeah, unfortunately, I had to see how your tongue was in the middle of Castiel’s throat.”

“Just getting warmed up for the wedding night,” Dean quips. Sam wrinkles his nose in distaste, and Cas gives him a nudge, which he takes as a reminder to be nice to Sam. “What’d you come in here for?”

“Since there’s not much to do and we still have some time to kill before Jess is being picked up at eight, do you two want to play cards with us in the library?”

It’s a better idea than what he’s managed to come up with so far, so he looks at Cas, and when he gets a nod in return, he says, “We’re in. But no whining when I beat you.”

“You wish,” Sam shoots back. 

Then Sam looks at Cas and says, “Fair warning, he sulks like a baby when he doesn’t win.”

“Takes one to know one,” Dean says to Sam’s back as he walks out of the room. 

“Are you a sore loser, Your Highness?” Castiel asks, clearly amused by this information. 

Dean gets to his feet, using the few seconds it allows him to decide how much he wants to admit to. “Maybe a little, but it’s just because I hardly ever lose. Not enough practice,” he jokes. 

“Mmhmm,” Castiel replies, his skepticism audible in his hum. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with you being a prince and therefore typically getting your way.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Dean snips as they walk into the hallway. 

Castiel only wraps his arm around Dean’s shoulders, an amused twinkle still in his eyes. “I suppose there’s no use even trying to pretend I’m not enamored with you when even your childish retorts make my affections towards you grow.”

He feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth without his permission. “Enamored, huh?”

“I’m afraid so,” Castiel says through a dramatic sigh. 

“Enough to let me win at cards?” Dean tries. 

He earns a low, rippling laugh from Castiel for that. “I would,” Castiel starts. He lowers his voice so that only Dean can hear him when he finishes with, “But I’m much more interested in learning what these lips of yours look like in a pout.”

Dean makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat. “Oh?” he questions. When Castiel nods his confirmation, Dean replies, “I hope that’s not all you’re interested in.”

“I could write novels,” Castiel says. He turns to look him in the face, and the heat in Castiel’s eyes is unmistakable. _“Volumes_ of novels.” 

Dean stops in his tracks, _much_ more motivated to hear Castiel tell him each and every thing he’s ever imagined doing with him in that low, low voice of his than playing cards with his little brother and his girlfriend. He backs up until he’s leaning against the wall, tugging Castiel in so that he can run his hands over Castiel’s chest, applying firm pressure to really get a feel for the other man’s body. Since Cas is the one who brought up his lips, he purposely wets his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue as he brings his hands up to play with the hair at the back of Castiel’s neck. He can see that he has Castiel’s undivided attention, and his heart is racing from the discovery of this newfound power he holds.

Castiel takes his time examining every inch of his face, and Dean can only imagine what he’s looking at. The blush on his cheeks and his shiny lower lip, surely. But can Castiel see how eager he is? How much he wants to give Castiel everything and anything he craves? How much he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what that lubrication taking up space in his nightstand could be used for now that he has it? 

Castiel exhales a shaky breath as his fingers dance along Dean’s lower spine. “What you do to me, Dean.”

“Yeah.” Dean nods slightly, struggling to swallow around just how dry his mouth is all of the sudden. “Got some of that going on with you, too.”

Castiel hums quietly, and Dean’s eyes drift closed when Castiel lowers his mouth to Dean’s neck. _Gods,_ Castiel is good with his mouth, leaving wet little kisses under his chin towards his ear until he finds a particularly sensitive spot just behind it that has Dean’s breath coming out in a breathless, _“Cas.”_

“There you are!” 

Gabriel’s voice booms through the hallway, and the impish smile on his face lets Dean know both the timing and the volume was completely intentional. 

“He can probably go back to the LOA now, don’t you think?” Dean asks Castiel. “Bobby and Rufus have us covered.”

Gabriel lifts a hand to cover his heart. “You wound me,” he declares.

“If he doesn’t, I will,” Castiel threatens. “Go, Gabriel. We’ll be along in a second.”

“I’ll come back if you aren’t,” Gabriel says, pointing a menacing finger at the two of them.

Castiel returns his attention to Dean after that, looking resigned but amused. “For so few people in your castle, there certainly isn’t a lack of interruptions.”

“I might know of a way to fix that,” Dean tells him. Castiel tilts his head to the side, intrigued, and Dean says, “After cards?”

Castiel nods. “We can talk about it then. Let’s go before Gabriel sends a parade out here.”

The next two hours pass more quickly than most of the day has. He and Sam have always gotten along really well, Jess is smart and quick-witted with a great sense of humor, Gabriel is hilarious when he isn’t annoying, and Dean enjoys playing off of all of them as a group or individually _and_ watching Castiel trying to navigate the dynamics between them all. Castiel is quieter in the group than he is when it’s just the two of them without a doubt, but when he does speak up, it’s either a clever remark that has Dean gazing at him like he hung the moon, or an exasperated reminder for Gabriel to use his manners.

By the time Sam is ready to escort Jess down to her carriage, Gabriel’s ready to retire for the night, too, which means he finally has a chance to really get Castiel alone. 

Deciding to make it playful instead of serious so that he doesn’t freak himself out with nerves or put unfair pressure on Castiel, he says, “I just thought of somewhere in the castle I haven’t shown you yet.”

“I’m not interested in seeing the dungeons,” Castiel jokes.

Dean smiles, but says, “They’re actually pretty cool. But no, come on. This is one of my favorite places in the whole castle.” He takes Castiel’s hand even though they only have to walk across the hall, and as soon as he opens his bedroom door, Castiel stops in the threshold instead of following him through. “It’s okay,” Dean reassures him. 

“This is your bedroom,” Castiel says, stating the obvious. 

“Yep.”

“I shouldn’t be in here.”

Because he and Sam spend so much time together, there’s two worn but very comfortable chairs and a little table over by the window, so he gestures to them. “We’ll sit at the table. And we can leave the door open if it makes you more comfortable.”

Castiel looks at the window, then at the huge, dark wood, four poster bed that takes up most of the room. “But your guards,” Castiel protests. 

“Are at the end of the hall, where they’ll stay whether we leave the door open or closed. Part of what I want to talk to you about.”

“Dean,” Castiel says quietly. His hesitation is evident in every line of his body, but it’s the uncertainty in the blue eyes Dean loves so much that causes an ache in his chest. “I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about you. About what kind of man you are.”

Clearly, there’s no doubt about what kind of man _Castiel_ is, and his consideration for Dean above everything else only solidifies his decision to be behind the closed door of his bedroom with Castiel. 

Dean steps forward and slips both of his hands into Castiel’s. “They won’t,” he promises. “Trust me, and I’ll explain when you come inside where we can’t be overheard or interrupted by my little brother.”

Castiel still looks conflicted, but he at least nods and steps into the room. Dean squeezes his hand in a gesture of reassurance as he leads him past the bed and to the chairs. He pulls one out for Castiel, then opens the window a crack to let in some fresh air without letting in too much rain, and finally takes his seat next to Castiel. 

“One of the things that happened after we said goodnight last night was that I sorta got unanimous approval for being with you,” Dean starts. “Ellen, Bobby, Rufus. All of the stand-in parents I grew up with when mine weren't around agreed that you and me make a good couple.”

Castiel looks downright pleased with that information, and it warms his heart to see it. 

“And because you’ve given me no reason not to, I’m gonna go with my gut here and trust you’ll keep what I’m about to say to yourself even after your dad gets here.”

“As long as it doesn’t put me in a position where you’re asking me to choose between you and the well-being of my family or my kingdom, you have my word. I won’t do anything to hurt you.” 

Dean nods, reassured enough by his words to continue. “The consensus is that my dad’s going to lose his mind when he comes back to see you’re a prince instead of a princess, and he’s going to do everything in his power to stop our wedding.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, and he scoots forward in his chair, reaching out to lay his hand on Dean’s knee with a stricken expression on his face. “I don’t want that to happen,” he says immediately. “I know we don’t know each other well, and a week is hardly enough time for anybody to know who they should spend the rest of their lives with, but Dean... I’ve already experienced so much joy and felt more affection towards you these last few days than I ever expected to within a lifetime of an arranged marriage. This may be selfish of me—and I know I face the possibility of coming on too strong, here—but I don’t want to lose you.”

Dean covers Castiel’s hand with his, once again trying to reassure him with a little squeeze. “I don’t want that to happen either,” he tells him. “I’m crazy about you and I don’t care what my dad says about it. Even if he breaks the contract, I’m not breaking up with you.”

A sound of relief escapes Castiel, and he surprises Dean by dropping to his knees in front of him and pulling Dean in for a firm, heated kiss. Dean opens to him immediately, inhaling sharply when Castiel kisses him much more fiercely than he’s used to. There’s a desperate edge to the way Castiel licks into his mouth this time, letting him know the fear of the two of them not being together is hitting Castiel now the same way it has been eating at his own insides since last night. He gives himself over to the searing heat of it, to the bruising, claiming kiss that Castiel lays upon his lips, feeling Castiel’s wandering hands set fire to his thighs, his hips, and up his back where they grapple for purchase in his too-short hair. 

He’s sure if they didn’t need to pull apart for air they would have stayed locked together for much longer. When their lips part, they’re both breathing hard, but what really takes his breath away is that Castiel’s eyes are (without a doubt this time), actually _glowing._

His mouth opens and closes several times as he tries to make sense of that, and what eventually comes out sounds just as startled and astounded as he feels. “Cas—your eyes—they’re—”

Castiel blinks, keeps his eyes closed, and takes a long, deep breath. He can actually see some of the tension bleed out of the rigid set of his shoulders, and only then does he open his eyes again. “I apologize. Better?”

 _Better?_ “Your eyes were _glowing,_ Cas.”

“You make it exceedingly difficult to keep my emotions in check.” Castiel says it like he’s commenting on his temper or something other than actual _light_ coming out of his eyeballs. “I’ll try harder if it makes you uneasy.”

Because Castiel clearly isn’t getting the issue here, his voice comes out rather loudly and more hysterically than he was aiming for when he asks, _“Why_ do your eyes glow?”

“Please keep your voice down,” Castiel says quietly. He looks over his shoulder and says, “Perhaps I should close the door after all.” 

“Probably a good idea if you’re gonna keep dropping bombs on me,” Dean says, still with a frantic edge to his voice. 

Castiel looks sad but determined when he asks, “Would you like me to leave?” 

Petulant, Dean replies, “No, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to tell me what you are and why that keeps happening.”

Castiel nods, then gets to his feet and closes the door, then comes back to sit in the seat next to Dean before he speaks again. “So you did notice before.”

“I thought it was a trick of the light or something,” Dean explains. “I never thought your eyes were _actually_ lighting up.”

“Most people think the same thing, which is why so few people know about this,” Castiel tells him. 

“Know about what?”

“I’m not meant to tell you until after our marriage is official,” Castiel starts. “But you’re trusting me with your secret, so I’m going to trust you with mine. And if what I’m about to tell you changes the way you feel about me or how you feel about our upcoming wedding, I want you to know that while I’ll undeniably be heartbroken, I’ll also understand.”

Now he’s scaring him. “Just spit it out, ‘cause I’m gonna come up with the worst case scenario and freak myself out if you don’t.”

“How important is a pure blood line within the royal family in your kingdom?” Castiel asks.

He wasn’t expecting that, but even without knowing where Castiel is going with this, he believes that he’s going _somewhere,_ so he answers honestly. “Very. It’s one of the reasons I was so worried to tell my dad about being gay. One fewer Winchester to make an heir.”

“Right. And how far back can you trace the Winchester lineage?”

Dean sighs a little. “I don’t know, Cas. I’m sure Sammy could tell you we can trace ourselves all the way back to the beginning of time, and how some of the first Winchesters ever on record were hunters named Samuel and Dean, just like us. I just don’t care a whole lot about that thing so I never really paid attention.”

“The reason I ask is because we, too, can trace our royal lineage to the beginning of time. And what those stories tell us is that we are the Land of the Angels because the first settler _was_ an angel.”

Dean draws his eyebrows together. “An angel.”

“Yes.”

The only reason he’s not completely shocked is because it isn’t the craziest thing he’s ever heard. He’s heard that the Queen of the Demons can switch her eyes to black and supposedly has an evil soul, and there’s mages out there with powers he’ll never understand. But _angels?_

“You’re talking... halos and wings and harps?”

A smile flashes quickly. “No, but I’m not surprised to hear that’s what you think of when you hear the word angel. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but I don’t have a halo or wings, nor do I know how to play the harp.”

Because even if Cas is descended from angels, he’s still Cas, Dean jokes, “Sound like a fake angel to me.”

Castiel relaxes even further as his smile grows, and he’s starting to look more like the man he cares for now rather than the serious man who showed up here that first day. “If it makes you feel any better, the lore tells us the first angel did have wings, but obviously there’s no way to prove that. What he did manage to pass down to his children, and his children passed on to his children and so on, is his grace.”

“What’s grace? Angel magic?”

“Mmm more like an angel’s life force, from what I understand. It’s what helped them fly and survive for millions of years before one came to our land. When the first angel took a human lover and she got pregnant, the child was reportedly half angel and half human. Over time, it diluted more and more through our family line, and now what little grace we have is pretty useless until it’s provoked by exceptionally strong emotions. Fear is usually the most common thing nowadays that can cause grace to come to the aid of an angel, although some angels seem to have an influx over others for reasons that can’t be explained.”

“So if you don’t use it for flying or whatever, what do the ones who have a bunch of it use it for?” Dean wonders.

“The people who can access their grace more easily are usually healers or warriors. Gabriel is one of them,” Castiel confesses. “The real reason he’s able to keep a greater distance away from me is because he can move much faster than a typical human if he has to.” 

“I guess that explains why the youngest prince of the Angels traveled so far with only one scrawny guard,” Dean says.

“Yes. It’s also why nobody’s really managed to rein in Gabriel’s horrible manners. It’s more important he’s here than that he does the right thing all of the time.”

He nods, understanding that part, but there’s still the fact that Castiel is descended from angels that he’s having a hard time fully grasping. “This is a lot to wrap my head around,” Dean admits. “I’m courting somebody who’s part angel.”

“Well, I’m hoping you’ll still want to court me now that you know.”

He tilts his head to the side, hitting Cas with a level look. Because the angel thing is a little weird, yeah, but Castiel should know it doesn’t change anything they have between them. He still loves Castiel’s smile more than anybody else’s, still wants to hear him laugh every single day, and still wants to get to know him better. 

“Of course I still want to court you, Cas. I just told you I’m crazy about you. It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a pair of glowy eyes to change that.”

Relief softens Castiel’s eyes and smile, and he can tell how deeply worried he was by the possibility that Dean would change his mind about the two of them now that it’s gone. He looks _lighter._

“I’m sorry I had to keep this from you, Dean. Nobody outside the royal family knows. It’s only ever shared between married couples on their wedding night.”

“Because then there’s no going back?” Dean guesses.

“That,” Castiel agrees. “And also because if consummation of the marriage is to happen that night, that is reportedly the one thing that causes grace to surface more consistently than any other.”

“You get glowy eyes when you have sex?”

Castiel’s cheeks have a beautiful pink hue to them now, and although he pointedly isn’t looking anywhere near Dean for the first time since they started talking. “Some people tend to lose control when they’re feeling particularly aroused or experiencing great pleasure.”

Dean thinks back to the first time he thought he saw Castiel’s eyes glowing... right after his first training session. He’s pretty sure the next time was before they kissed for the first time... then when they made out at the pond... and tonight, when Castiel was kissing him so hungrily. 

And _now_ Castiel’s reluctance to look him in the eye makes perfect sense. 

“Funny how the only time I’ve seen _your_ eyes turn blue is when we’re kissing, or about to kiss,” Dean says, feeling pretty damn smug now. Other people from the LOA manage to make it to the wedding night without giving themselves away, and Castiel barely made it two days before he was glowing on him.

Castiel meets his gaze head-on now. “You have seen what you look like in the mirror, haven’t you?”

Dean’s smile stretches wider. “Thought you said when we first met that it took more than looks to, uh—” He squints, thinking back. “—win your affections.”

“Obviously, I was lying through my teeth,” Castiel admits, and Dean laughs loudly. “And you are much more vain than I gave you credit for.”

Dean shrugs, not ashamed in the least. “Never really cared too much about it before, but I’m not gonna pretend I don’t like knowing I check all your boxes enough to literally make your eyes light up.” 

“You check every box I’ve ever been aware of having, and several I didn’t know existed for me until I laid eyes on you,” Castiel reiterates.

 _Damn,_ if that doesn’t make him feel powerful. “I know I don’t have the whole glowy eye thing going, but if I did, I would’ve lit up the second I saw you and a thousand times since then.”

“You are entirely too charming for your own good,” Castiel tells him, but he looks so incredibly flattered that Dean knows he’ll remember to say things like that more often. 

“Guess you bring it out of me,” Dean says, laying it on a little thick now just because he can. “I’ve got another dozen questions I want to ask about the whole angel thing, so I wanna come back to that at some point, but I think it’s important that we finish talking about what happened last night before my dad gets back.”

Castiel’s expression grows serious again, and he nods his agreement. “You’re right. What happened after your family told you they approve regardless of what the King says?”

“Bobby has somebody looking into the contract to try to see if, legally, it’s binding regardless of your gender. Then Ellen...” He stops to smile at himself. “There’s no way I’m getting through this without blushing like the virgin that I am, so I might as well just say it,” he decides. Castiel’s gaze intensifies, and Dean lays everything out for him. “They said that since my dad’s going to do everything he can to break us apart, they’re willing to let us enjoy what time we have. And since we aren’t going to make babies behind closed doors, they don’t care what we do.”

Castiel’s eyes almost bug out of his head, and Dean laughs nervously, nodding as Castiel clearly starts to get it. “So that— _that_ would be why nobody’s knocking on your door even though we’re in here alone?”

“That would be why,” Dean replies. “They even left me condoms and lube just in case.”

Castiel’s jaw drops as he runs his hand through his thick hair, messing it up and somehow making himself twice as attractive in the process. “Gods above, Dean,” Castiel curses breathlessly. 

He’s visibly flustered, and Dean leaps at the chance to comfort him. “I’m not saying we have to use them, I’m just saying _that’s_ how on board they are here.”

Castiel’s lips open and close several times before he shakes his head. “I literally don’t know how to reply,” Castiel confesses. “I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be hearing that so many people outside my kingdom are not only talking about my sex life, but that the woman who serves me three meals a day is the one who provided the necessary supplies in order to make it happen.”

“You did say it was like a whole other realm,” Dean reminds him, trying to insert a little bit of humor to the situation.

“And you prove that to me time and time again,” Castiel says. There’s a moment of silence as Castiel leans forward onto his elbows to brace himself on his knees, once again pushing his hands through his hair. His head pops up suddenly, and he pins Dean with his gaze. “Did you plan to bring me in here to have sex tonight?”

“Hell no,” Dean says vehemently. Castiel looks like he doesn’t believe him, and Dean lets his jaw drop in mock indignation. When Castiel only keeps staring him down like he’s waiting for the rest of the truth, he relents. “I _wasn’t_ hoping for sex, but I was maybe hoping to make out a little.”

“In your bedroom,” Castiel states, sitting up straighter now. “Where nobody will interrupt us. You want to just... kiss?”

“Well, yeah.” Dean shrugs one shoulder, then rubs at the back of his neck as his hands start sweating. “Not like I know how to do anything else,” he mumbles, embarrassed now.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel breathes. He gets to his feet and hauls Dean up, too. Dean melts against his strong chest even before Castiel tilts his chin up just enough to brush their lips together. “The way you tug at my heart,” he says softly, stroking down the back of his neck. “I know how eager you are, _en olapireta,_ because I feel the same way. Maybe even more since I’ve been waiting six years longer,” he adds, and Dean cracks a wobbly smile. “And you have my word I will do everything within my power to give you everything you desire, but it doesn’t have to be all at once. It doesn’t have to be the first time we have the opportunity.”

Dean nods shakily, Castiel’s proximity and the depth of emotion in his voice and within his eyes making him feel raw and vulnerable in a way he has very little experience with. “But that’s not to say that I’m not a selfish man. That there’s not a few things I’ve dreamed of experiencing for so long that I’m not in a position to turn away from them now that you’re offering.”

And even though he has no idea what he’s agreeing to, if there’s one thing he’s learned on this rainy Wednesday, it’s that he trusts Castiel. “Anything,” he says quietly.

Castiel smiles softly before bringing their lips together again until the tension he didn’t realize he was holding in his shoulders and spine relaxes under Castiel’s gentle ministrations. Only then does Castiel move things along, and his heart soars when Castiel peppers sweet, gentle little kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, and that sensitive little spot behind his ear that always turns him to mush. 

“I want to see you undress.” Castiel’s low voice has Dean’s lips parting as desire strikes him like lightning. “I want you to strip down to your undergarments,” Castiel whispers, leaning in to kiss him once more; a longer, firmer kiss that curls his toes in his boots. When Castiel speaks again, his breath is warm on his lips, and Dean wants nothing more than to taste it again and again. “I want to lie you down on your bed while I stand before you, taking in every glorious inch of you looking far more gorgeous than anything I’ve ever seen before you and anything I’ll ever lay eyes on again, while I strip down, too.” Just the idea of being down to his underclothes, lying flat on his back _on his bed_ while Castiel’s eyes roam his body makes his veins feel like liquid fire. “Are you with me so far?”

Dean’s certain he couldn’t force a word out if he tried, so he nods. Eagerly.

“Good heavens you’re exquisite when you’re flushed like this,” Castiel breathes, placing another chaste kiss to each burning cheek that for reasons he can’t understand, has him _panting_ for breath. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

“Wha—” Dean clears his throat and tries again after it cracks. “Wh-what do you wanna do to me once I’m in bed?”

Castiel smiles that slow, sexy smile that makes desire coil tightly low in Dean’s stomach, and _son of a bitch,_ he’s sure he’s never been more turned on a single time in his life. “Do you remember those novels I mentioned before?” Dean nods again, knowing he probably looks every bit like the inexperienced, over-eager virgin he is. “One of the things in there I'm dying to try... is falling asleep and waking up with you in my arms.”

Dean waits a good three seconds, wanting to know if Castiel’s going to add to that. But he doesn’t.

“You’re alone with me behind closed doors for the first time, and the thing you want to do most is—is hold me in my sleep?” he asks, trying valiantly to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“Nobody said anything about _most,”_ Castiel clarifies, his eyes dancing with laughter now. “But yes. I would enjoy that very much if it’s not too much too fast.”

“It’s not too fast,” Dean says, not even needing to think about it. “You’re just gonna have to stop looking at me like that for a few minutes so the situation in my pants has a chance to go away.”

Castiel snorts a laugh, but that quickly turns into a real, booming laugh that has Castiel breathless by the time he’s able to speak through it. “There are no words for just how fond I am of you, my prince.”

“I’m pretty sure actions speak louder than words anyway,” Dean taunts him.

“Then may I suggest we brush our teeth, use the facilities, and get ready for bed so that I can take the opportunity to show you just how much you mean to me?”

He’s sure he’s never gotten ready for bed faster. They take turns using the en-suite in Dean’s room, and even knowing that all Castiel wants from him tonight is to lie in bed with him, his heart still races when he pads barefoot over to lock the bedroom door for the night. Castiel comes out of the bathroom while he’s standing at the door, beckoning him to come closer with a crook of his finger Dean follows like a fish on a line.

Once they’re face to face at the foot of Dean’s bed, Castiel caresses Dean’s cheek before his fingers drift down to the buttons at the front of Dean’s vest. “May I?” Castiel asks. 

“Yeah,” Dean breathes.

His entire body feels almost too alive as Castiel carefully starts unbuttoning his vest. He’s hyper aware of every brush of Castiel’s fingers against his shirt and the gentle skirt of them as he pushes it over his shoulders and lets the vest fall to the floor. Dean turns around wordlessly, giving Castiel permission to unlace the ties at the back of his neck. He can feel the heat from Castiel’s body along his back, and his eyes drift closed, his shoulders heaving when Castiel lifts the hem of his shirt and slowly brings it up and over his head. He’s down to a form-fitting sleeveless undershirt now, and he’s completely unable to suppress the goosebumps spreading up his spine and down to his fingers when Castiel wraps his arms around him from behind.

Castiel nuzzles into his neck as his hands roam his upper body—over his stomach, up his chest and down his sides—whispering between soft kisses to his skin how beautiful he is, how perfect, how Castiel is the luckiest man alive to see him like this. Dean’s stuck somewhere between feeling like he’s floating and like he’s been thrown head-first into a volcano. On second thought, he may _be_ the volcano, because Castiel’s fingers have drifted down to dance at the waist of his slacks, and he probably has smoke coming out of his ears. 

“Can I remove these for you?” Castiel checks.

Again, Dean’s at a loss for words, so he nods his permission and damn near sinks to the floor when Castiel fingers the button, works it free, and finds the zipper Dean’s erection is currently straining against. He makes a choked-off sound in the back of his throat when the backs of Castiel’s fingers drift over the length of him as he lowers the zipper, but he doesn’t miss the hitch in Castiel’s breathing.

“Gods, Dean,” he sighs, bringing his now trembling hands back to Dean’s hips. “I can hardly think for wanting you.”  
  
They stay there for a long time with Castiel’s fingers caressing his hip bones while they both work on steadying their breathing, but eventually, Castiel slides his thumbs between Dean’s boxer shorts and his slacks. The slightest bit of pressure has them falling to his knees, and desire spikes so sharply, Dean has to clench his hands into fists when Castiel kneels behind him. He pushes Dean’s pants down to his ankles, and Dean reaches behind him to steady himself on Castiel’s shoulder while he lifts one foot at a time until he’s completely rid of them.

He genuinely feels like his face is on fire when the tent in his boxers becomes more obvious now that he isn’t wearing pants, and even though he knows Castiel knows he’s hard, finding the courage to turn and face him is proving more difficult than he expected it to. Castiel’s hands return to his hips, his long fingers curling around his hip bones and molding to them like that’s exactly where they belong, and he plants a soft, dry kiss to Dean’s bare shoulder. 

“One day, I’ll take the time to find and kiss each and every one of your freckles,” Castiel says. Although Dean can’t see him, it sounds like he’s smiling, and for some reason, that helps him to take in the first truly calming breath he’s been able to get since Castiel started taking off his clothes. “But for now, can you get in the bed for me, Dean?”

He has half a mind to say no, to tell Castiel that he wants the chance to undress him, too, but his inexperience and lack of confidence coupled with the uncertainty over whether or not he could survive it without embarrassing himself in a way there’d be no coming back from has him nodding and taking the few steps he needs to be able to climb in. He can feel Castiel’s eyes on him when he gets one leg up on the bed and crawls over the middle, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Castiel could see his heart beating through his chest when he turns over and lies on his back.

He feels overly warm from his face all the way down his neck and to his chest, his stomach is rising and falling with his heavy breaths, and his cock is as hard as rock. It’s standing proud, straining the fabric of his white boxer shorts in an obscene way he would be embarrassed about if Castiel wasn’t staring at it like it’s about to make all of his dreams come true.

His stomach is filled with nerves and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do with his hands, but thankfully, his mind goes completely blank when Castiel pulls his open jacket over his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. He tugs his shirt free from his pants and efficiently works the long line of tiny buttons from the bottom to the top, revealing inch after inch of firm, tanned skin that suddenly floods Dean’s dry mouth with an influx of saliva. By the time Castiel’s shirt joins the rest of their clothes on the floor, Dean’s not entirely convinced he’ll survive this, but he’s nowhere close to asking the older man to stop. Not when Castiel is standing so confidently in front of him with his bare chest revealed and on display for Dean to ogle without remorse. Castiel is absolutely flawless, and Dean doesn’t dare to take his eyes off of him when he unbuckles his belt and opens the front of his pants.

He eyes Castiel’s thick, muscular thighs as Castiel pushes his pants the rest of the way down, and it’s only when Castiel straightens up that the solid outline of Castiel’s erection becomes obvious where it’s pressed against his body due to the strange, tight black boxer shorts Castiel wears. 

“Fuck.”

The breathy curse escapes him before he can even attempt to hold it back because, like the rest of him, Castiel’s cock looks _thick,_ and Dean’s so incredibly turned on by the sight of it that he actually feels lightheaded.

Castiel nods his head, like he knows precisely how Dean feels, and he’s pretty sure his heart actually stops beating when Castiel climbs on the bed next to him. “Is this still okay?” Castiel checks.

“Yeah,” Dean answers automatically. “But I gotta warn you, you so much as look at me the right way and there’s a chance I’m gonna go off like a rocket.”

Castiel laughs breathlessly as he lays himself down next to Dean, carefully leaving a few inches of space between them that doesn’t help a damn thing because _Castiel is lying in his bed._ “I know exactly what you mean. This was much more erotic than I had in mind when I suggested it. I should have known I would only have to see you to feel like this.”

Dean swallows, but suggests, “Maybe it’ll be easier if we get under the covers. Out of sight, out of mind or whatever.”

Castiel smiles. “You’re a very smart man.” 

Together, they shimmy until they’re able to pull the blankets up to their armpits, and Dean rolls over to turn off the lamp by his head, plunging the room into shadows. For a few minutes, there’s only the sounds of their breathing and the rain hitting the windows. 

As his arousal slowly dims, he asks, “Can I come a little closer?”

Castiel lifts one arm, leaving space for him to curl up on his chest, and Dean moves in without hesitation now. He fits himself against Castiel’s side, blushing harder than ever when what’s left of his erection presses up against Castiel’s hip. He goes to back up a little bit, but Castiel’s big hand falls onto his lower back and applies gentle pressure, silently giving him permission to stay where he is. He’s sure the other man is just as aware as he is of the way his cock thickens and hardens once more, but Castiel doesn’t comment on it, so he doesn’t either.

Castiel rests his cheek on the top of Dean’s head, and his fingers stroke up and down Dean’s lower back, causing more goosebumps but soothing his nerves at the same time, too. Slowly but surely, he feels himself start to relax, and by the time his eyelids begin to get heavy, his body and Castiel’s are so closely entwined he isn’t sure he could separate himself if he tried.

“This is nice,” he slurs, already on his way to falling asleep.

“It’s perfect,” Castiel agrees quietly. “Holding you like this, feeling how flawlessly you fit in my arms...” Castiel presses a long, lingering kiss to his forehead. “It’s a dream come true, Dean. Thank you for indulging me.”

Dean hums his agreement, blissed out and more comfortable than he thought he could be half naked in bed with the hottest man he’s ever seen. “Don’t leave, kay?”

“Never,” Castiel promises in a whisper. “Sleep, _en olapireta._ I’ll be here in the morning, and every morning after.”

And wrapped up in the safety and security of Castiel’s arms and the affirmation of a forever that’s much too soon for him to want as badly as he does, Dean’s helpless to do anything but drift off into a deep sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean bolts upright in bed, gasping for breath. The image of Castiel being dragged out of the castle kicking and screaming with his dad watching stony-faced is way too fresh in his mind, and the lingering feeling of dread from his dream feels as if it’s taken up permanent residence somewhere behind his ribs. 

He just about jumps out of his skin when a lump next to him in bed moves, but then a sleep-rough voice says, “Dean?” and he remembers Castiel is actually in bed next to him.

Without thinking, he throws himself into Castiel’s arms, burying his face in the very solid, very _real_ warmth of Castiel’s neck to hide his face. He can feel his tears drying on his cheeks and he’s sure it’s him who’s shaking, but just breathing in the familiar, masculine scent of _Castiel_ makes him feel so much better he can’t find it in him to be embarrassed. 

Cas is _here._ He’s not being forced out of the kingdom and away from him forever, and he clings to reality as a way to try to shake off the dream.

“Dean, you’re trembling,” Castiel says, wrapping his strong arms around him and pulling him tight to his body. 

“Bad dream,” Dean admits, still shaken.

If it’s possible, Castiel only tightens his grip. His lips brush Dean’s forehead, and he murmurs, “Must’ve been really bad.” Dean nods, and Castiel kisses the top of his head this time. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“M-my dad,” Dean says shakily. “Ripping us apart and... and having you carried out of the castle... kicking and screaming. I was never gonna see you again.”

“No,” Castiel says firmly. “I would never let that happen. Never.”

“But my dad—”

“Does not rule the realm,” Castiel cuts him off. He leans back a little bit until Dean can see his face, and he can see that Castiel looks sure. Determined. “He could kick me out of the castle and maybe the kingdom, but he couldn’t keep me away from you. Not if you don’t want him to.”

Dean’s heart cracks at what that means for him. “I don’t wanna leave my castle. My home. My brother,” Dean admits, his chest aching from the thought. “But I don’t wanna lose you, either. I-I—I care about you so much.”

Castiel pets down the back of his head, his long fingers stroking through his hair. “You won’t lose me,” Castiel promises. He leans in to kiss his forehead again. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you by my side.” He kisses his cheek. “I would take on the entire kingdom.” He kisses his other cheek. “Your father _and_ mine if that’s what it took. Please, Dean,” Castiel begs him, pressing their foreheads together as Castiel’s eyes bore into his in the dark. “Believe I will always do everything in my power to make you happy.”

Castiel’s eyes flash bright blue, and knowing that means Castiel is feeling something so intense that it has his grace rushing to the surface makes Dean’s breath catch in his throat. Whatever it is he feels for Castiel—this building warmth in his chest that just keeps getting bigger and bigger with every moment they spend together—it rushes through him at the sight of Castiel’s grace, tugging him in like a magnet until their lips come together.

Castiel’s hand is still on the back of his head, and though there’s nowhere he’d rather be than connected to Castiel’s lips, Castiel holds him firmly in place as he kisses him, hard and sure. Dean’s jaw is pried open with a gentle thumb a split second before Castiel’s tongue sweeps into his mouth, and Dean moans against Castiel’s lips. He’s hungry for the connection, for the way Castiel’s mouth is hard and scratchy but soft and so fucking plush all at the same time. He feels like he could drown in Castiel, in his taste and in the roll of his tongue, and he kisses him back wholeheartedly. There’s no reluctance, no hesitation borne of inexperience now, only an urgent need driving him to be closer, closer, _closer,_ to take what he can get from Castiel while he still has the chance. 

He gets one hand on Castiel’s shoulder and pulls himself in, erasing even the idea of space between them as he plasters himself against Castiel. Castiel’s strong arms wrap around his lower back, spreading his legs enough that one thick thigh works its way between Dean’s as Castiel pulls him more securely against him. Dean gasps at the first point of friction between his cock and Castiel’s thigh, and Castiel’s mouth moves smoothly from his lips to neck, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh while Dean’s head spins and the sound of his fast, harsh panting fills the room.

He lets Castiel’s mouth take the lead, working its way down his neck and to his collarbone where he nibbles and sucks, making Dean’s blood run hot and his cock harden so fast he feels like it’s burning where it’s pressed so firmly to Castiel’s thigh. Castiel mouths his way across Dean’s chest, up the other side of his neck, and right back to his lips where he kisses Dean with a ferocity that renders him breathless.

An incredibly dirty flick of his tongue has Dean moaning into his mouth again, and Castiel pulls away to nip at his swollen flesh, then soothes the sting with a slow swipe of his tongue against his lip that has Dean pushing his tongue out of his mouth to meet it. Castiel kisses him deeply, thoroughly, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss that hits him so sharply between his legs that his hips tilt forward mindlessly, unintentionally but _blissfully_ causing his dick to rub against Castiel. 

Pleasure causes an unintelligible sound to escape. “Mmuh.”

“Dean,” Castiel murmurs. Castiel turns his head only slightly, kissing the corner of his mouth instead of right on and applying a gentle pressure to his shoulder at the same time. “Dean, slow down.”

He doesn’t _want_ to slow down, though. He didn’t want to just cuddle before bed either, and now that he has an all-too real idea of what it might feel like to lose Cas, he’s not about to miss out on what _he does_ want when it’s right in front of him. So instead of stopping, Dean shakes his head and dives in for another firm kiss, putting his skills to the test and managing to turn Castiel’s low sound of protest into a pleasure-filled groan when he coaxes Castiel into another long, heated lip lock. 

Castiel kisses him back with a renewed vigor that doubles the already incendiary urgency that’s crawling along his skin, driving him to run his hands greedily over Castiel’s strong back. Pleasure coils in his stomach as he explores the hard planes and rippling muscles beneath his palms, alternately grappling at and caressing his lover’s body as their lips move together seamlessly. Cas is strong and muscular and just being able to touch the power and bulk has Dean burning from the inside out. 

Instinctively, his hips start to rock in the back-and-forth rhythm his body craves to reach its release, causing a needy little sound to escape him when he not only gets the friction he was seeking, but feels the first nudge of Castiel’s cock against his hip as well. _Fuck,_ Cas is hard and it’s so _hot_ he can barely stand it. A low sound from Castiel rumbles against his lips, making his cock _throb_ when he realizes something he did caused Castiel to sound _like that._ It fuels a new need inside of him—one to _give_ pleasure instead of receive it—and with a surge of confidence, he slides his hand between them and rubs his palm over the hard, thick length of Castiel’s erection. 

Castiel wrenches his lips away and tilts his head back, letting out the single most arousing sound he’s ever heard: a low, raspy moan that seems to travel directly to Dean’s cock. But Castiel is so fucking hard, his big cock so warm and actually pulsing in Dean’s grasp that his attention returns there immediately. He rubs against it more firmly and Castiel calls out again, this time throwing his arm over his face to muffle his cries, pulling Dean’s gaze to the long column of exposed flesh on his neck. Impossibly enticed by the sight and figuring kissing a neck has got to be similar to kissing lips, Dean lowers his mouth to Castiel’s throat and latches onto Castiel’s golden skin. Castiel’s hand applies pressure to the back of his head, urging him to continue what he’s doing, so he spends a few minutes exploring the dips and exploiting the hot spots he discovers on Castiel’s neck while he strokes Castiel’s cock over his boxers. Every sound he wrings from the older man sends a new spark of pleasure through him, and even though he hasn’t been touched yet, he feels his arousal getting sharper and sharper from every one of Castiel’s hitched breaths, every different iteration of his name from Castiel’s lips, and every half-aborted thrust Castiel makes as he tries and fails to stop himself from riding against Dean’s hand. 

Castiel keens suddenly, and for one heart-stopping moment he thinks Castiel has reached his orgasm, but instead, Dean’s pushed gently until he rolls onto his back. Castiel fills the open vee of his legs but stays up on his knees, keeping their groins apart. Castiel’s eyes are bright blue, not quite glowing but almost, and with his flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and bed head sticking up haphazardly, he looks so sexy Dean can hardly believe he gets to be the one in bed with this man hovering over him. 

“Dean, _en olapireta,_ are you sure you want this? Because we can still stop, and I’ll still consider myself the luckiest man in the realm to have the chance to hold you all night long.” 

“No,” Dean says steadily. “I want you. If—if anything happens and we get separated—”

“We won’t,” Castiel insists. 

“I want this to hold onto,” Dean finishes. “To have the memory of how your hands have brought me more pleasure than I could have dreamed. I want—I want my first time to be _yours,”_ he whispers. “Make me yours, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes flash, but Dean doesn’t get the bruising kiss he was expecting. Castiel brings their mouths together tenderly, stroking down Dean’s face the way he does with his thumbs and making Dean’s closed eyes fill with moisture from how incredibly, inexplicably, impossibly _loved_ he feels. They keep kissing, slow and gentle but down-to-the-soul deep, and when big hands skirt down his sides to push up his shirt, Dean gasps into Castiel’s mouth. Castiel’s hands feel like fire on Dean’s bare skin, and he pushes up into them, into the barely-there pressure until Castiel’s hands feel heavy and _divine_ on his body. His shirt winds up rucked up to his armpits, and when Castiel breaks their kiss to ask, “Can—” Dean is already pulling at it for him, tugging it up over his head and throwing it onto the floor. 

And _holy shit,_ he was not prepared for the sensation of Castiel’s lips moving down the center of his chest while Castiel’s hands ghost up and down his sides, caress his hips, drift along his ribs and underneath him where Castiel strokes his fingers along the dip of Dean’s lower back like he can’t get enough of him. “Beautiful,” Castiel whispers, sounding just as wrecked as Dean feels. “Every part of you is a gift from the heavens, Dean.” 

He’s blushing when Castiel continues mapping out his skin. Castiel’s mouth is open and wet, leaving trails of saliva behind as he samples every inch of Dean’s flesh he can get his lips on. Between his wandering hands and incredible mouth, Dean can’t keep up with all of the new sensations and Castiel seems unwilling to give him the chance. He’s frozen in place with the weight of his desire, breathing hard, cursing under his breath intermittently and chanting Castiel’s name like a prayer as Castiel brings him closer and closer to his peak.

Everything seems to come to a screeching halt when Castiel closes his plump lips around Dean’s nipple. Dean’s so caught off-guard that he calls out, loudly, making a noise he’s never produced in his entire life until this moment. Castiel freezes, looks at him with an apology in his eyes that Dean stops before it can come out. “Again,” he begs. “Holy _fuck._ Do that again, Cas.”

Castiel’s shoulders relax, and a knowing smile curves his lips before he lowers his mouth and takes Dean’s nipple back into his mouth, suckling gently at the hardened flesh this time and still making Dean squirm from the deliciously sinful sensation. His lungs feel too small, like it’s impossible to bring in all the air he needs, but unbelievably, the burn makes his body feel alive instead of uninhibited. Castiel works one nipple at a time, using his lips and tongue, and his first experimental nibble on his swollen bud damn near makes Dean cream his boxers.

 _“Son of a bitch,”_ Dean wheezes, squirming with an intense need he’s never experienced before. He feels frantic. Desperate. Wild. Like he’s only moments away from something life-changing that he knows without a doubt that only Cas can give him. “Cas, please. I need—I’m so—”

“Okay,” Castiel replies, his voice quiet but rickety. “Okay, _en olapireta.”_

Castiel’s lips meet his at the same time Cas groans low and needy while he lays his weight on top of Dean completely for the first time. They line up in all the right spots, one after another—lips, chests, and groins—and each point of contact is better than the one before it. When he feels Castiel’s cock hard against his for the first time, heat flashes through him from head to toe so fast he absolutely cannot catch his breath. He hears a shuddering breath from Cas that separates their lips, and the two of them are reduced to harsh pants mingling between them as Castiel tries to reposition. Sparks explode at his spine while their lengths cross and bump a few times before they line up just right. 

Dean’s eyes roll back in his head as pleasure, more razor-sharp than anything he’s ever felt before, cuts him to the bone. His arms wrap tight around Castiel’s neck as high-pitched, embarrassing little whimpers escape him with every breath because _holy shit_ Cas is fucking _hung_ and feeling his cock so fucking huge and hard as rock pressed up against his is surely more than he should be expected to withstand.

“I know.” Castiel’s voice is shaken, and the idea that Cas feels as good as he does has his next whine gaining some volume and turning into some kind of pathetic wail he wants to take back the second he hears it. “Shhh, it’s alright.” Castiel presses his lips to Dean’s forehead before he rests his forehead against Dean’s, and with his voice wavering, he says, “I’m—I’m just going to try—”

Castiel rocks against him, sliding his cock against Dean’s in a back-and-forth motion that makes his insides sing with recognition. His mind blanks out for what might be a single thrust or might be thirty, but when he’s aware of his surroundings again, he feels like an electric current is lighting up his insides. 

“O-okay?” Castiel checks. 

Dean nods enthusiastically. Castiel’s smile flashes, but Dean loses sight of it when the damp drag of his boxers along his leaking cock makes his jaw drop. The friction between them as Cas rides against him _so fucking good_ he can hardly stand it. His hands grip Castiel’s sides, riding the fluid motions of his body as Cas thrusts against him until even that’s not enough, not satisfying his need to be closer still. He grasps at Castiel’s back, digging his nails into Castiel’s soft flesh as he feels everything inside of him begin to tighten increment by increment. 

It’s a sensation he’s at least somewhat familiar with, and while he knows what it means, he doesn’t know what to do now that he’s in this with another person. 

“Dean,” Castiel gasps, a hand cupping his face as he continues to hump against him. “Dean, _en olapireta,_ you feel like Heaven. So un-unfathomably good. I—” He stops, kisses Dean again, soft but wobbly, and Dean watches raptly when Castiel’s eyes slam closed and his jaw unhinges. “Fuck, I-I can’t. You feel— _gods, Dean_ —you feel—”

His sentence ends on the dirtiest fucking moan Dean’s ever heard, and because Dean was already so unbelievably close even before that, his body moves instinctively to get him what he needs. He lifts his hips to chase the friction, to rub against the hard length of Castiel’s cock, matching the leisurely pace that’s undoing them both as if they were fucking like madmen instead of clumsily fumbling in the dark.

It’s good though. Unimaginably good, and as his hand grapples for purchase over the rolling, flexing muscles of Castiel’s back now slick with sweat, he lifts his chin to catch Castiel’s mouth in an uncoordinated but still astonishingly tender kiss. Their lips meld together, stumbling into the sweet spot that makes his heart fill, and like that was the final push they were both waiting for, their bodies start moving together instead of against one another. 

As Castiel thrusts down, he thrusts up, and they meet halfway over and over in a dance as old as time, pushing him closer and closer to the edge every time their groins line up just right. Castiel breaks their kiss, breathing hard as he moves down to kiss and suck at the base of his neck instead. One hand finds Dean’s hip, and Dean inhales sharply when Castiel’s fingers curl around it, gently urging him to meet the rhythm Castiel is gradually increasing. 

They’ve got it down now, and as the heat pooling low in his groin intensifies with thrust after thrust, he pulls Castiel impossibly closer, kissing his temple and the side of his face. He kisses the bend of Castiel’s muscular neck, his flexing shoulder blade, and when the head of Castiel’s cock drags _just right_ against his own, he sinks his teeth into the muscle between his neck and shoulder.

Castiel curses, grinds down onto him hard enough that their balls rub together through their clothes, and Dean sees stars. Inconceivable pleasure swamps him, swallowing him whole with its intensity, and between one breath and the next, he’s fucking done. He’s coming _explosively,_ his head spinning and his lungs burning, fireworks exploding behind his eyes and along more nerve endings than he’s ever been aware of until right now _._ He locks up as it rips through him, his cock kicking between them with the severity of his pleasure, his head thrown back with a low, throaty moan torn from his lips that fills the air. 

He can feel the warmth flooding between their bodies, knows Castiel will have no doubt about what‘s happening, and he doesn’t know whether he’s supposed to be embarrassed or not but it’s hard to worry about that when pleasure is still reverberating from his core all the way to his fingertips. Castiel’s face is buried into the crook of his neck, and even though his ears are ringing, he’s pretty sure he catches a garbled-sounding, “Oh _fuck,_ oh gods Dean. Oh, _Dean._ Dean, _en olapireta,_ fuck. Fuuuuck,” as Castiel’s hips start to stutter. 

He sounds sexy as hell, causing residual arousal to clench low in Dean’s stomach and an odd but comforting tingling sensation to crawl over his skin, but all of that fades into nothing when the man above him goes rigid and Dean feels Castiel add to the mess between them. His eyes are closed but the blue he now associates with Castiel’s grace flashes behind his eyelids, and combined with the sudden gushing heat Dean feels dampening the already wet fabric of his boxers, it’s unfathomably hot. Dean rocks up again, suddenly _dying_ to have the proof of the pleasure Castiel found from his body splashing on to his skin, but the hand on his hip tightens, holding him down.

A breathless, _“Dean,”_ comes out of Cas like a plea. He stills himself, running a hand through Castiel’s sweaty hair in apology, and because Cas turns his head a little bit, Dean leans in to drop a kiss to his forehead. Cas hums happily, snuggling more comfortably into Dean’s side with his shoulders heaving, and Dean feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Cas has gone completely boneless, and Dean finds himself stroking up and down his spine as he tries to catch his breath.

He feels incredible. 

He just had sex (kind of) for the first time in his life, and it was amazing. _Incredible._ So much better than any morning hand job in the shower ever prepared him for, and best of all, he got to experience it with Cas. Cas, who checked every step of the way that Dean was okay with this, who managed to take the lead _and_ show him just how easy it can be to be with the right person. 

He never thought he’d be the kind of guy to get choked up after his first time, and he isn’t quite there now, but as he lies here in the afterglow, he’s undoubtedly emotional about it. He’s happy. He’s thankful. He’s really glad it was with Cas, that it happened how it did, and he’s absolutely sure that even if something happens and his dad _is_ able to keep them apart for good, he’ll never, ever regret this. His first time was entirely his choice. It was with who he wanted it to be with, somebody he cares about more than he ever thought he could care about anybody romantically, and it was perfect. His first sexual experience will never be with somebody his father is forcing him to marry, and nobody can ever take that away from him now.

He doesn’t know how long they lie there, but he knows his eyelids flutter open when he feels a soft kiss on the underside of his chin. It’s his turn to hum contentedly, and he’s smiling like an absolute dope when he sees Castiel prop himself up on one elbow, looking every bit like the cat that caught the canary himself. 

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asks gently.

“Like my head is in the clouds,” Dean replies, reaching out to brush a lock of hair off of Castiel’s forehead. “You?”

“Like I’m right up there with you,” Castiel echoes. He leans in to seal their lips together in a soft kiss, then pulls away only enough to say, “Nothing has ever felt so natural. So right. So perfect as being with you. My only hope is that it felt the same or better for you.”

“It did,” Dean confirms. “It was perfect.”

 _“You_ were perfect, and continue to be perfect every second I’m lucky enough to lie here with you.” Castiel kisses him again, more soundly this time, their lips breaking apart and coming back together several times before they manage to stop altogether. “I’ll go find us something to clean up with.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Dean says vehemently, and Castiel is chuckling as he rolls out of bed. Dean watches the moonlight dance along his skin as he walks by, wondering absentmindedly what he ever did to deserve a man like Cas in his life. He hears the sound of water running, and a few minutes later, Castiel comes out with a damp, warm cloth. 

Dean goes to take it from him, but Castiel shakes his head slowly. “I’d like to take care of this for you, if you’re agreeable.”

He swallows hard, but knowing there’s no reason to be shy with his nakedness after what just happened between them, he lifts his hips and slides his ruined boxers off altogether. Castiel is gentle but thorough as he cleans him up, and the warm cloth combined with Castiel’s careful touch is remarkably intimate and soothing in a way he didn’t expect when he agreed to this. His heart swells almost painfully when Castiel places a single kiss to the newly-cleaned space between his belly button and his groin, and he drags him up to seal their mouths together.

Castiel grabs him a new pair of boxers to sleep in, but though Dean offers another pair for Castiel to sleep in, it turns out they’re much too tight and Castiel is left with whatever mess a quick rinse at the sink couldn’t get out of his boxers.

“I’ll go get you a pair from your room,” Dean offers, but Castiel is already getting into bed next to him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the middle of the night, and you, my sleeping beauty, need your rest.”

“‘fraid I’m gonna wake up looking like a toad if I’m up too long?” Dean teases.

“I couldn’t care less about what you look like, _en olapireta,_ I just want you to be well taken care of.”

Dean scooches over so that he’s back on his chest the same way he was when they first climbed into bed together, and when Castiel’s arms come around him as naturally as anything, Dean says, “I’ve got you for that now.”

Castiel kisses the top of his head. “Yes, you do. Sweet dreams for the rest of the night, alright?”

“I can pretty much guarantee it,” Dean replies. 

Because there’s no way anything can pierce through the infinite layers of happiness he’s wrapped in right now. No way whatsoever. 

When he wakes up again, the sun is shining through his window, and more importantly, Cas is still in his bed. Dean’s on his side, and Castiel is cozied up behind him. His hand is drifting up and down Dean’s side, and although he’s never been much of a morning person, he really can’t complain about waking up like this.

He rolls over as far as he can with Castiel so close behind him, and smiles up at the other man. “Mornin’ sunshine.”

Castiel’s eyes are twinkling and so fucking blue in the morning sunlight, and combined with the truly atrocious bedhead Cas has going on right now, he looks cuter than Dean’s prepared to handle this early in the morning. He pulls Cas down by the side of his face before he can even say anything back, and hums into the kiss Cas returns without hesitation, enjoying the pleasant scratch of Castiel’s facial hair that must have grown in overnight. In fact, he runs his finger tips over it as their lips slide together, appreciating the sensation of the bristles catching on his fingernails, and presses his lips more firmly to Castiel’s as a bone-deep satisfaction sinks into him.

When their lips part, Castiel nuzzles into his cheek, dropping another kiss there. “Good morning to you, too.”

“You look hot first thing in the morning,” Dean tells him, making Castiel smile nice and wide. “Even the bedhead sorta does it for me.”

“And you,” Castiel begins, his voice soft and full of affection, “cannot be human, because there’s no feasible way that you would wake up looking as perfect as you do.”

Dean blushes a little, but grins, too. “Just lucky, I guess.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, that would be me,” he declares, swooping in to catch Dean’s lips in another lasting kiss that tugs at his insides. He combs his fingers through Castiel’s tousled hair, lets them trail down his prickly jaw and onto his bare shoulders where he reacquaints himself with Castiel’s muscular body. Castiel’s breath catches as Dean’s hands travel his back, and Castiel trails his lips down to Dean’s neck, moving behind his ear to that little magic spot that makes Dean moan. 

Castiel pulls away as soon as he hears it, his eyes already dark with desire. “You are far too tempting, still warm from sleep and mostly bare before me.”

Dean slips his hands down over Castiel’s chest, purposely grazing his palms along Castiel’s pecs. “I dunno, I think you’ve probably waited long enough. You deserve to indulge yourself.”

Cas grins, clearly pleased with his willingness. “We’re never going to be able to get out of this bed.”

Dean nods his agreement, flicking his thumb over a now hardened nipple. “Sounds good to me.”

Castiel’s answering kiss is just as soft as the one before, but he pulls Dean in until there’s no space between them, and he learns pretty damn fast that he’s not the only one who has been hard since the moment he opened his eyes. 

It’s almost a repeat of last night, the way Castiel worships his chest, stomach, and nipples with his mouth and hands until Dean’s a trembling mess, but it feels every bit as good as it did the first time, so he sure as hell isn’t complaining. By the time Castiel is lying on top of him again, he’s drowning in pleasure and so far gone that he doesn’t even think about it before he slides his hands down Castiel’s back to get two glorious handfuls of the older man’s ass. Castiel makes a pleasure-filled noise low in his throat, so Dean takes it as permission to keep his hands there until they’re rocking together again, using the additional leverage to press them together even more closely than how they fit the night before. 

The sensation of their chests bumping and grinding skin-to-skin is what plants the idea of _more_ skin-to-skin contact, and ultimately, working his hands beneath Castiel’s boxers. Once he’s thought of it, it’s all he can think about, and within seconds, he has his fingers teasing under the elastic band of Castiel’s boxers with his heart in his throat. When Castiel whispers his permission between suddenly intense kisses, Dean shoves his hands down the back of Castiel’s boxers and feels the firm globes of Castiel’s ass cheeks with nothing between them for the first time. 

Castiel is clearly enjoying it as much as Dean is, because he begins thrusting against him more wildly, inadvertently causing his boxers to slip down and down further until they’re only caught by the head of Castiel’s erection. Dean’s insides are _on fire_ when he tucks his thumbs into the front and pushes them down, and though Castiel breaks their kiss with a gasp, he lifts his hips so Dean can work Castiel’s boxers off completely. 

Dean’s eyes dart down between them, his heart thudding hard in his chest when he gets his first glimpse of Castiel’s erection in all of his glory, and lust takes over completely when he thinks about how fucking good that could feel pressed against his. 

“Mine, too,” Dean requests between his heavy breaths, and Castiel genuinely whimpers when he starts to work Dean’s boxers off to leave him completely naked too. 

He’s sure he dies a thousand deaths while Castiel slowly kisses his way up the inside of his thigh, inching closer and closer to his throbbing cock with every passing second. When Castiel’s lips find the crease of his thigh and he flicks his eyes up to meet Dean’s, Dean’s certain the torture of having that plush mouth of Castiel’s so close to his cock without being _on it_ walks the line between bliss and sin. 

For one wild second, he thinks Castiel is going to take his cock into his mouth (and isn’t _that_ an insanely hot idea?), but he continues his trail through Dean’s pubic hair and to his stomach, rubbing his palm over the length of Dean’s erection as he goes. It’s the first time in his life that anybody has ever touched him there except himself, and he chokes back a surprised sound of pleasure when Castiel wraps his hand around him.

Castiel pants against his mouth, gasping, “Gods, you’re hard.” Dean nods, digging his teeth into his lower lip, eyelids hooded and cheeks burning. “Are you close?”

“You keep touching me and I’m gonna be,” Dean replies. Castiel seems to take that as a challenge, stroking him with a loose fist from base to tip. Castiel’s hand is so much bigger than his, and his dick is swallowed by the heat of it, of the smooth skin so unlike his own calloused hands that his heart is beating so fast he’s afraid he might actually die of a heart attack before he comes. _“F-fuck,”_ Dean chokes out. 

Castiel hums quietly, either the low timbre to his voice or his tentative fingers circling his cockhead causing goosebumps to pop up along Dean’s skin. A thumb rubs along his slit, smearing precum and making him throw his head back as pleasure slams into him like a fist.

“You’re gorgeous,” Castiel declares, and Dean feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin when Castiel’s thumb starts rubbing gentle circles around the sensitive head of his cock. “Absolutely gorgeous. I could watch you tremble and fall apart for infinity, _en olapireta.”_

“Cas, please,” Dean begs. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, he just knows he needs Cas to _do something._

“What do you want, my prince?”

“You,” Dean answers mindlessly. “Please. Like—like last night.”

Castiel leans in and catches his lips in a searing kiss, and Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck, pulling him closer and tugging him down until they’re pressed together from hip to chest, both of them groaning at the brand new sensation of their cocks aligned with nothing between them. 

Through heavy breathing, Castiel asks, “Like that?”

Dean’s whimper of agreement is all the response Cas gets before Dean spreads his legs wider. He slides his hands down Castiel’s back and over his ass, then grabs a hold of his malleable flesh and pulls him down until they’re grinding together. Castiel’s mouth finds his, and they make out, hot and heavy like they know they’ll never get enough of this no matter how frequently it happens. It’s dry, but from the first time their cockheads catch and roll together, Dean’s a moaning, overeager mess. He moves against Castiel, ignoring the slight chafing in order to gain more friction, gasping and panting as they rock their bodies together.

Castiel pulls his mouth away, trailing towards his ear, where he whispers, “Do you have that lubrication within reach?”

Dean has to breathe in deep several times before he can speak. “Drawer. Right there.” Castiel reaches for it, and only when he sees the tube in his hand does he realize what Castiel might have in mind. “I-I’m—I don’t think I’m ready yet to—”

Castiel pauses from where he has started to tear off the protective wrapper, looking curious for a second or two before his eyes go almost comically wide. “No! No, no no no. That’s not what I was thinking. I was just going to use this for what we were already doing, so it isn’t so dry. Is that okay?”

Relief rushes through him so strongly he feels lightheaded for a second. “Y-yeah,” he breathes, and then he’s given the absolute gift of watching Castiel squirt some lube onto his palm and wrap his hand around himself (albeit briefly) to slick up his length. Blood fills his cock so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if it actually leapt, and by the time Castiel spreads some lubrication onto him, he knows he’s not going to last long enough for it to make a difference.

Sure enough, Castiel barely fits himself back between his legs before Dean’s struggling to catch his breath. The first slick slide of their cocks together is fucking _ecstasy,_ and all he can do is clutch onto Castiel for dear life as they start to move as one. He closes his eyes and luxuriates in Cas’s lips soft but still insistent on his own, in the feeling of his muscles rolling where Dean has his fingers digging into his flesh, the subtle scrape of Castiel’s facial hair on his chin and above his upper lip as he kisses him more and more intensely. 

It’s _so much,_ he’s _so_ wound up that he’s desperate for his release. All he wants is to come, to see Castiel come, to feel it splash over his naked body and _know_ Castiel feels as good as he feels. 

It seems Cas is right there with him, because he’s driving him down into the bed now, the mattress helping him to bounce back up and rut against Castiel’s heavy cock, and he _loves_ it. He fucking loves Castiel’s weight on top of him, his bulk, the wall of muscle and what seems like endless miles of soft skin pressing, sliding, _grinding_ against him. He can feel the head of Cas’s cock, swollen and steadily leaking fluid, nudging accidentally but so perfectly right against his that he can’t fully swallow down another moan, can’t resist arching into it.

 _“Dean,”_ Castiel says tightly. 

It’s music to his damn ears because he has a good idea what it means when Cas sounds like he’s about to come apart at the seams. He notices Castiel’s body is tensing above his, knows he’s right on the edge, and the burning desire he has to _feel_ his release has him wrapping his legs around Castiel’s waist to draw him impossibly closer. Castiel groans, running his big hands down the backs of Dean’s thighs, worshiping his skin as they line up more significantly, forehead-to-forehead now and struggling to share the moist air between their lips. 

Their cocks rub together so fucking dirty, and when one big hand slips down to palm his ass, he jackknifes as pleasure rips through him. Castiel’s eyes flash an electric blue that seems to reverberate directly to his soul, stealing his breath and adding an inconceivable edge to his arousal until Cas comes suddenly with a stuttered groan—absolutely, unbelievably _gorgeous._

The second he spills hot and sticky against Dean’s cock and onto his stomach, it triggers his own release _,_ and Dean’s moaning incoherent nonsense mixed with Castiel’s name as he’s thrown head-first over the edge and into a mind-numbing orgasm that seems to stretch on for eons. Castiel collapses in a heap on top of him while Dean’s still coming hot and thick between them, and every time he so much as twitches, Dean’s hyper-aware of the cum smearing all over him. While part of his brain tries to make an argument for it being gross, in all honesty, it makes him feel wanted and desired and _wrecked_ in a way that only prolongs his peak until he’s absolutely certain there isn’t a drop of semen left in his body.

He can hardly breathe. He sure as fuck can’t move. He’s all but melted into the bed and he’d be perfectly fine with it if he never regained control over his body as long as Cas stays here with him. In fact, Castiel is dead weight on top of him, his shoulders heaving and his harsh breaths puffing on Dean’s neck where his head wound up, and Dean realizes with a thrill of excitement that he _loves this._

All of it. The sex. The tingly, floaty, dead-to-the-realm feeling when it’s all over. Cas’s weight on top of him, the evidence of two orgasms sticky between them, the sweat cooling on his forehead as he starts to breathe more steadily. All of it is so much better than he thought it would be, and he can only hope Castiel feels the same way. 

“Cas?” 

Castiel’s only response is a muffled, “Mmph?”

“That was fucking awesome.” That earns a chuckle, and Dean’s smiling at the ceiling when he feels Castiel’s body shake with it. “Lube, man. Who knew?”

“Mmhmmm.”

“I never even thought about two dicks together like that before. You’re a genius.”

“Thank pornography,” Castiel mumbles.

Dean draws his eyebrows together. “Porn? Like dirty magazines?”

“Yes, but on the television and internet,” Castiel says into his shoulder. He pushes up to one elbow, the same way he did last night, to explain further. “You can see videos—kind of like photographs that move—of people who are paid to have sex for a living. It’s often unrealistic, but I can’t say it hasn’t inspired a thought or two of all the many, many things I’d like to do to you.”

“Thank you pornography!” Dean exclaims, which gets a grin out of Castiel. As he looks at him, he realizes Castiel’s cheeks are still stained pink, his lips are swollen from kissing, and if he thought his hair was wrecked before they fooled around again, it’s nothing compared to how it is now. “You look like you just left a brothel.”

“No need for a brothel when I have endless exposure to a body like yours,” Castiel says. “I could spend eons in bed with you and still never learn you in all the ways I desire.”

“I am fully on board with trying out as many as we can fit in,” Dean responds. 

Castiel’s eyes are dancing with laughter as he swoops in to place a quick peck to Dean’s lips. “You are going to be insatiable, aren’t you?”

Dean thinks about how good he feels right now, how connected to Cas he is when they’re both naked and fucked out in his bed. Yeah, he’s gonna want a lot more of this. “Probably,” Dean admits. “I’m a spoiled prince used to getting what he wants, after all.”

“And now that you know all you have to do is bat your eyelashes at me to have me on my knees?” Castiel asks, shaking his head. “Thank the Heavens we don’t have a kingdom to run just yet. I have a feeling we’ll be accomplishing very little outside this bed.”

Dean licks his lips, bats his eyelashes just like Castiel said, and asks, “You’re not gonna—what’s the saying—return the cow now that it gave the milk away for free?”

Castiel snorts a laugh, but leans in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’m fully committed to you, _en olapireta,_ regardless of what you give away or keep to yourself. If you never touched me again, I’d still worship the ground you walk on because of who you are, not because of how breathtaking you are when you come apart for me.”

It’s cheesy, without a doubt, but the best part is that he can see the truth written all over Castiel’s face. He’s just as smitten as Dean is. Cas means every ridiculous, over the top word he says, and while Dean never expected to be the kind of guy who falls for that stuff... he’s undoubtedly falling. Because that’s a little heavier than he’s willing to deal with this early in the morning, he changes the subject.

“What’s that smooth-sounding shit that keeps rolling off your tongue? A nickname or something?”

Interestingly, Castiel’s blush deepens. “It’s Enochian.”

“It’s ridiculously hot,” Dean tells him. “What does it mean?”

“Nothing too out there,” Castiel says. The only thing is, for as much as he could see earlier that Castiel was being entirely truthful, he can see just the same now that Castiel isn’t telling the whole truth right now. “Similar to what you called me when you woke up this morning, actually.”

That piques his interest. “Sunshine?” 

“Yes,” Castiel lies. “Something like that.”

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “You’re a fucking terrible liar, man.”

Castiel grimaces. “It’s sappy.”

“You usually are,” Dean counters. Then he adds in a stage whisper, “I not-so-secretly love it.”

Castiel sighs, but gives in to explain. “The first time we kissed, out in the garden? Your skin was absolutely glowing, your freckles were more obvious, and your eyes were greener than I’d ever seen them... all because of the sun.” 

“Okay, jeez,” Dean says quietly, already flustered and regretting his choice to admit the soft spot he has for Castiel’s poetic words.

“I realized I could relate,” Castiel continues. “In a lot of ways, like the plants need the sun to grow, it’s almost as if I was brought back to life by your presence, warmed by your smile, lit up by your touch. It’s like you’re my sunshine, Dean.” Castiel cups Dean’s face in his hand, and though his blush doesn’t fade, he explains, _“En olapireta_ means ‘my light,’ because that’s what you are to me. The light that saved me from a lifetime of darkness.”

 _Shit._ His heart is so fucking full, he can hardly think. 

“I—I don’t know what to say,” he admits, turning his head to kiss Castiel’s palm. “I’m just... really glad I could make you feel like that.”

“I didn’t even know I could care about someone as much as I care for you,” Castiel says. “Which is why I meant what I said last night. Nothing is going to come between us.”

The reminder that his dad will be returning within a day has fear dragging him down from where he still felt like he was in the clouds. “My dad’s sure going to try.”

“I won’t let him. I have money, Dean. As much money as my father was going to give yours in exchange for your hand. If I have to... I’ll use it all to build us a new castle in your kingdom or mine, or somewhere in between where you can still see your mother and Sam, and the friends you have here.” Castiel leans in to kiss his forehead, a lingering promise Dean wants too much to believe to deny. “I will make this work, _en olapireta,_ for as long as you want me to. You have nothing to worry about.”

Dean closes his eyes as he lets Castiel’s words wash over him. Could it be that he really has somebody in his corner willing to do whatever it takes just to make him happy? Somebody who cares about his happiness enough to make sacrifices for it?

“Thank you,” Dean says quietly, covering Castiel’s hand on his cheek with his own. “Thank you for being here for me. For caring so much.”

“That’s like thanking me for breathing. It’s impossible not to.”

They both jump when there’s a knock on the door, scrambling to sit up. “Your Highness?” They look at each other with wide eyes when they hear Ellen, and Castiel pulls the blanket up and over them as if they’re at risk for being walked in on. “Bobby wanted me to warn you that morning training starts in twenty minutes. I know you haven’t eaten yet, so I’m going to leave you a tray outside your door.” There’s a short pause, then she adds, “If you’re late, he’s gonna have your hiney handed to ya, so I wouldn’t dawdle.”

“Thanks, Ellen,” he says back. Then, realizing that Castiel has nothing to dress in, he calls out, “Hey, um, could you have some of Castiel’s clothes brought to my room, please? And breakfast for him, too?”

“I’ll send for his clothes, but breakfast is already out here. Tea and all.” His face flushes with color when he realizes that means everybody knows he and Cas spent the night together. “Now, with all due respect, tear yourself away from that boy and get movin’.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

They’re quiet for a second or two, but once they figure the coast is clear, they look at each other and both instantly dissolve into laughter. He leans in for a kiss, but Castiel pushes him away, still laughing. “Go shower. I’m not having Bobby on my bad side.”

That’s a good point. “You are a very smart man.”

“Don’t forget it,” Castiel tells him.

And although he has the fastest shower he’s ever had and he has to wolf down his breakfast on the way to the training grounds, Dean’s never felt better.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The closest thing to angst between Dean and Cas is in this chapter, but it gets resolved seconds later.

Dean can’t even begin to wipe the smile off of his face, and considering he’s almost through forty minutes of cardio, that’s saying something. He keeps thinking about last night and this morning, how sweet and tender and unbelievably hot everything was between him and Cas, and he’s just so happy.

Castiel brings his breakfast outside so he can watch, and Dean can hardly keep his eyes off of him. He’s dressed more formally than Dean’s seen him the last few days, in a long, high-collared, velvet shirt in navy blue with golden feather accents embroidered on the shoulders, collar, and down the vee of his chest. It falls halfway down his thighs where it’s split into four chunky sections and is secured in place with a black belt and golden buckle. His slacks are exactly the same color blue, but in a sturdier looking fabric, and the whole thing is finished off with his regular black boots. 

He looks rich and incredibly handsome. 

Dean loses two duels because he’s distracted, and even though some of the guys give him a hard time because it’s obvious where his attention really is, it’s all lighthearted fun. Honestly, it’s a relief to know that none of his men have a real issue with what’s obviously happening between him and Cas, so he takes the razzing in stride. He knows Bobby is slightly frustrated, but other than a roll of his eyes and an elbow when he wasn’t paying attention for the third time, he doesn’t give him shit, which Dean appreciates. 

Bobby does pull him aside once the rest of the men leave, though. “All I’m gonna say is I know your head wasn’t in it today, and I know why, and I get it. But when your old man comes back, he ain’t gonna stand for that.”

Dean nods, a mix of embarrassed and lightly chastised. “I know. I’ll do better.”

Bobby nods, then says, “Go have fun. You know you’ve only got another day, maybe less.”

The reminder dampens his spirits, but only slightly. If the last twelve hours taught him anything, it’s that he and Cas can accomplish a lot in a day. “Yeah. Thanks, Bobby.”

He turns to join Castiel where he’s sitting in the shade, but stops when he sees Sam crossing the field towards him. He doesn’t typically see Sam outside of the castle during the day because he has so many classes, so it’s a surprise, but a welcome one.

“Hey, kid,” he greets him. “What’s up?”

“I went down to the dining room to meet you for breakfast this morning but you never showed. Wanted to make sure you weren’t sick or something.”

Dean smiles and gestures to his body with a wide sweep of his hand, indicating that he’s perfectly fine. “All good. Just slept in a little.”

“Uh huh.” Sam’s tone of voice lets him know he isn’t buying it, though. “Funny that Cas wasn’t there either.”

Never let it be said that his brother isn’t a smart kid. “Not all that funny considering he was in bed with me.”

Sam’s eyes go wide and he looks around them quickly, likely checking to see if anybody is within hearing distance. Even so, he keeps his voice down when he asks, “Did you sneak him into your room?”

“Something like that,” Dean answers.

“And?”

“And what?”

Sam eyes him meaningfully. “Did anything happen?”

Dean huffs in response. “Did you really come out here to gossip, Sammy?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be the guy who kisses and tells, but I will say it was _awesome.”_

Sam’s eyes go a little wide, but he nods his understanding. “Can you still wear white on your wedding day?” he questions, and Dean chuckles at the wording.

“Yeah, Sammy. Nothing like that. Cas is a good guy. He took good care of me, was all romantic and shit.”

Sam seems to relax a little bit after hearing that, and Dean gives his back a brotherly slap. “Good. I’m, uh, happy for you. I think?”

Dean chuckles again. “You should be. I’m over the fucking moon.”

Sam runs his hand through his shaggy hair, a nervous habit Dean is well aware of, and so he’s braced for it when Sam speaks next. “I, uh, came looking for you this morning ‘cause I was wondering if you know if dad’s coming home today or tomorrow?”

Dean shakes his head when he says, “Could be late tonight or anytime after. Depends if they spent any time in the LOA or just turned right back around and came home. Knowing dad—”

“He probably turned right back around once he got there so he could come back as soon as possible,” Sam finishes. “Are you scared?”

“Shitless,” Dean admits.

“I don’t know that it helps, but I’ve got your back in any way I need to,” Sam tells him.

“Yeah, I know, little brother,” Dean replies. 

“Hey, wanna hear something sort of funny?” Sam says. 

“It’d definitely help,” Dean decides.

“I had a dream last night where me, you, and Castiel were in some sort of graveyard or something, and we were fighting off... like... a swarm of zombies,” he chuckles. “We looked like us, but we were wearing the weirdest clothes I’ve ever seen, and even though some short guy sicced hundreds of zombies on us and we were really outnumbered, we still thought we were going to win.”

“Zombies, huh?” Dean asks, amused by his brother’s brain. “Did we have machetes to cut off their heads?”

“No. Castiel had a blade unlike anything I’ve ever seen, but I think we both just had iron stakes or something. I don’t know why I was so confident in my dream that we were going to fight our way out of it.”

“Did we?” Dean wonders.

“No idea. I woke up before I found out.”

“Sounds crazy in the kinda way only dreams can be,” Dean says. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. It’s not like zombies are real, right?”

“No, I know. I just thought it was kind of weird since Castiel has been here five nights, and I think I’ve had two dreams about him now, including the squirrel one.”

That is a little weird, but not unheard of. “You’ve always had crazy dreams, though. At least this one wasn’t about the fire.”

Sam huffs out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, that’s true, I guess. Just felt really real. Not all of them do. It freaked me out a little.”

“I hear ya. I had a hell of a dream last night, too, actually. Kept me up for a while.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Dean shakes his head. Sam has enough to worry about. “You just let me know if any of those dreams about Cas turn out to be dirty ones, because _then_ we have a problem,” Dean jokes, trying to lighten the mood further.

Sam laughs but looks over his shoulder. Dean follows his gaze to where Cas is approaching them, and he feels his heart skip in his chest at the very sight. 

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel says. “It’s nice to see you outside the dining room.”

“Yeah, you too,” Sam answers. Then he grins, and adds, “Missed you at breakfast this morning.”

Cas’s cheeks turn pink and he glances at Dean quickly before he says, “I’m sorry to hear that. I had a bit of a late start this morning.”

Sam grins nice and wide, making sure his meaning is clear, when he replies. “Yeah, I heard.”

Cas looks to Dean pointedly now, and Dean hits his brother with an unamused glare. “He’s full of it, he didn’t hear shit.”

Sam laughs and Castiel clears his throat, trying to maintain his dignity. “Well, in any case, perhaps our schedules will line up better this weekend.”

“On your wedding day? I doubt it,” Sam says.

Dean and Castiel turn to face each other, and Dean can tell just from the look on Cas’s face that he isn’t the only one who somehow managed to forget about their upcoming wedding. “Holy shit, we’re getting married in two days.”

“Kinda puts the whole zombie apocalypse into perspective, doesn’t it?” Sam jokes.

“Zombie apocalypse?” Castiel questions.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean replies. “We have real life to deal with.”

“I’ll uh, leave you guys to it,” Sam says. “I gotta get back to class. See you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch,” Dean confirms. Castiel bids Sam goodbye, and then the two of them are left standing in the field. “So,” Dean says, completely clueless where to go from here.

“Two days,” Castiel comments. “I don’t know how that managed to catch me off guard considering I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t to marry you.”

Dean cricks his neck back and forth as he thinks about that, and because he hates that they’re standing so close together but not touching, he reaches out to wind his arms around Castiel’s neck. “Guess we had some other things in mind lately.”

Castiel’s hands fall onto his hips, and he lowers his voice even though they’re quite alone. “Those other things were definitely on the forefront of my mind watching you out there dressed like you are.”

Dean looks down at the worn brown shirt he has on with a white-long sleeved undershirt beneath it. It laces down the front, parts at his waist, and is only kept in place because of a belt low around his hips. It’s truly unremarkable and absolutely not one of the outfits his parents would have chosen for him to wear in front of the Prince of the Angels their first week together, but it’s comfortable and easy to attach a blade to, so he slipped into it this morning without thinking.

“This thing’s almost as old as I am. You look like actual royalty,” Dean points out.

“I’m only dressed in this because these are the clothes that were sent for me. I thought it was preferable to walking through the castle in soiled clothes from yesterday.”

“I’m not complaining. You look drop dead gorgeous.”

“And you look manly and over-confident in a way that should be illegal until I have my ring on your finger and everybody knows they are unwelcome to look let alone touch.”

That causes his stomach to swoop and his cheeks to heat up. “You really wanna marry me?”

“Yes.” Castiel answers without hesitation, and it makes him feel incredibly warm inside. “Do I wish I had the chance to meet you outside of these circumstances so that I could have courted you properly and we had the chance to take our time to fall in love organically without a contract being involved? That’s a yes, too. But you won’t hear me complain about it since in any and all scenarios I dream up concerning you and I, we wind up married anyhow.”

Dean lets his hands drift down until his and Castiel’s meet at his side, and without thinking about where he’s going or what he’s doing, he starts walking the path towards the stables with Rufus trailing behind them. 

“You think we would?” he asks quietly.

“Wind up married if we didn’t have to?” Dean nods his head in response, and Castiel purses his lips and looks thoughtful for a time before he answers. “It’s impossible to know, obviously. But in all honesty, I can’t imagine meeting you in any capacity and you not worming your way into my heart the way you have this week. What do you think?”

He really considers what it might have been like to be at a ball or out of the castle when he first crossed paths with Cas, and he lets a quiet huff of laughter escape when the truth comes to him. “I think I would’ve been way too nervous to even try to talk to you if I didn’t have to.”

“Really?” Castiel questions.

“Absolutely,” Dean laughs. “Do you not remember how red my face was every time you looked at me for the first two days?”

Castiel’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. “I do, actually. It was part of what made me sure enough of your interest to ask to court you.” Castiel squeezes his hand, letting him know he’s not being made fun of but rather teased with affection. “So if we met outside of this scenario, it would have ended up the same way? With me approaching you about courting?”

“Definitely,” Dean agrees. “Hey, if we were in your kingdom, what kinds of things would you have planned for us?”

Castiel takes in a deep breath and blows it out in one long stream. “That’s a good question. I can’t even really imagine you there, let alone there with me. I feel sure that we wouldn’t have gotten to know each other this well so quickly had we been there, though.”

“How come?”

“Everything is superficial. You sit next to somebody in the dark for two hours, unable to talk, eating popcorn in front of a giant television screen and call it a date. Go to a bar and get drinks which inevitably impair your judgement, increase your libido, and force relationships that are purely physical instead of emotional. Use your cell phone to match with people based solely on their appearance, only to later lament about there being no emotional connection. It’s tiresome and ridiculous, and to be quite honest with you Dean, I’m glad you don’t live in a kingdom where I have to try to navigate those things in order to gain your affections.”

Even though Dean doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, he gets the meaning behind most of what he’s saying, and it sounds exhausting. “I guess in hindsight, it was a lot easier to catch a chicken, huh?”

Castiel laughs the way he wanted him to, and Dean is happy to lean against him when Castiel’s arm comes around his shoulder. “That’s really all it took?”

Dean’s blushing now that he’s put on the spot, but if he’s going to be honest... “Yeah. One look at the size of the smile on your face that day and I was a goner. Knew I was gonna do whatever I could from then on to make you keep smiling.” Cas kisses him on the side of the head while they walk instead of saying anything back, and so he fumbles to cover it up. “I know that’s... crazy fast... and I’m sure it was just a crush or whatever because you can’t really—”

“You had me from the moment you offered me that rose,” Castiel interrupts. “Your kindness, even though you were so uncertain and embarrassed, absolutely won me over. You sealed the deal when you picked me fresh flowers the next day, and I think I fall a little bit more in love with you each day I see a new bouquet.”

_I think I fall a little bit more in love with you._

Cas is falling in love with him? Dean’s so fucking happy and his heart is so full he’s surprised it’s not shooting out of his eyeballs or something. Cas is falling in love with him! 

“Guess I better pick you more flowers while we’re out here, then. I dropped the ball this morning, and I don’t want you having second thoughts.”

“Your hands were otherwise occupied, and I have no complaints about that,” Castiel says, sounding pleased with himself. 

Dean bumps into him a little, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Which time?”

Because he can tell that Castiel is cracking a joke, he replies around his growing smile. “All of it. You undressing me last night. Falling asleep in your arms. Having you there when I woke up... and everything after.” He laughs nervously, and continues. “It was all great. _You_ were great. Made it special or whatever.”

“Impossible not to when it was with you,” Castiel says back. “I will admit I had some intrusive thoughts this morning before you woke up. I was afraid you might think I took advantage of your vulnerable state in the middle of the night.”

“No,” Dean says immediately. “It wasn’t like that _at all._ If anything, I pushed you into it, not the other way around.”

“There was no pushing.” He pauses for a second, then admits, “Okay, maybe a little pushing but that was only because I wanted to be sure you were sure, not because there was any part of me that wasn’t interested. If we hadn’t been interrupted at the pond, for instance...”

“And the water hadn’t been so damn cold,” Dean adds, and Castiel laughs again.

“That may have been a contributing factor, as well. Heaven knows I was enjoying myself far too much to stop even then.”

“It’s sorta crazy as soon as we start kissing, right?”

“It’s intense,” Castiel confirms. 

“Think it’s like that for everybody? One kiss and they wanna rip each other’s clothes off?”

“I doubt it. I’ve never wanted to go further than a kiss until you.”

Dean comes to an abrupt stop as those words sink in. _“Further_ than a kiss?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side, that quintessential Cas look of confusion all over his face, like he has no idea why that stopped Dean in his tracks. “Yes?”

“How many other people did you kiss before me?” Cas opens and then closes his mouth, as if he just realized he backed himself into a corner, and Dean realizes there’s one very important question he’s never asked Castiel. The second it occurs to him, he blurts it out—without any tact and with more of an accusatory edge than he really feels. “Are you a virgin?”

“I beg your pardon?” Castiel repeats. He’s clearly insulted, whether from the question or Dean’s tone of voice, he doesn’t know.

“I—I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Dean admits, slowing down enough to take a breath. “I’m just freaking out a little here.” Sex before marriage isn’t as taboo as it once was, but for royalty, it’s almost unheard of. How else to protect the royal bloodline but to keep the royalty untouched, after all? His stomach twists with unwelcome jealousy at the thought of the body that was pressed against his this morning being that close with anybody else. “Are you a virgin?” Dean repeats, more calmly this time. “I don’t care either way,” he lies, “but if we’re going to get married and try to be together... like that... then I think I have a right to know.”

“You don’t care either way?” Castiel asks, his voice dripping with skepticism. “Is that why there’s suddenly more space between us now than there has been since we met?”

“Okay, maybe I care a little,” he admits, and although his insides are doing weird fucking things right now, he reaches out to take Castiel’s hand again. “I just—I gotta know, Cas. The not knowing is going to drive me crazy.”

“I have never had sexual intercourse,” Castiel says plainly. “But I am not so untouched as you were when we met, either.”

He’s never experienced such a confusing mix of relief and trepidation in his life. “What does that mean?”

“You want specifics?” Castiel asks.

“Yeah, actually,” Dean says, belligerent. Then he immediately changes his mind when he realizes knowing might be worse than not knowing. “No. Fuck, I don’t know.”

He pulls his hand free from Castiel’s and crosses them over his chest instead. He’s aware that he’s irrationally upset right now and Castiel hasn’t even admitted to anything yet, but it doesn’t help the feeling go away. His chest aches and his insides are burning with jealousy, and he doesn’t know if he wants to punch something or curl into a ball and cry.

“Dean, please,” Cas calls out, and it isn’t until he hears how far away Castiel’s voice sounds that he realizes he’s stalked away from him in his fit of anger. “Please don’t be upset. I’m sure it’s nothing as illicit as you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Dean tosses back.

Castiel grabs him by the elbow and Dean’s forced to slow to a stop. “Please let me explain.” He’ll let him explain alright, but he doesn’t have to be happy about it. He wrests out of Castiel’s grip and re-crosses his arms, raising his eyebrows in a silent challenge. “It was years ago, at school. I was barely sixteen.” That alone helps to release part of the knot in his chest. “I have kissed another,” Castiel admits, and Dean has to look at the ground and try to pretend hearing that doesn’t rip his heart to shreds for reasons he doesn’t even understand. “It was a woman—”

His stomach rolls and he forces out, “That’s enough,” as he tries to turn away. That’s one thing he absolutely cannot compete with and there’s no point trying.

“Dean, please,” Castiel begs, stepping in front of him to stop him again. “That’s it, okay? That’s all I was going to say. That’s all it was. It was a few kisses with a woman, and _that’s_ how I found out I was gay. Because I felt _nothing._ Nothing like how the realm seems to tilt beneath my feet every time you so much as look at me.”

His eyes are burning, but his voice comes out steady and sure. “Did you... care about her?”

“I won’t cheapen the experience by denying that,” Castiel says quietly. “I wouldn’t have wanted to kiss her if I didn’t feel anything at all. But I know now it wasn’t romantic. Not how I always hoped it would be with the person I would someday marry.” Dean softens slightly at the admission, and Castiel steps closer, placing one hand gently on his lower back. “I know I’ve upset you, and I’m so sorry, Dean. If I had known that there was a man like you waiting for me, wishing that was something we could experience together, I wouldn’t have done it then. But I had no idea. I never expected—” His breath catches on a deep inhale, and Dean’s heart clenches painfully in his chest at the idea of Castiel hurting. “I hoped. _Oh,_ how I hoped,” he says breathlessly. “But I never expected to find a man like you.”

Dean swipes at his nose, and lifts his head enough so that Castiel will be able to hear him, but not enough so that he has to look at him yet. “If this is all just some bullshit story to make me feel better—”

“If I wanted to lie to you, don’t you think I would have started with hiding the truth from you entirely?” Castiel asks him. 

And the man has a point. Still, he has questions. “What happened to her? To the girl? Is she out there somewhere hiding in the wings waiting to swoop in and take you from me?”

“Dean, _en olapireta,_ have you forgotten that my preferences run entirely to men?” Castiel asks, sounding at least slightly amused. Dean gives into a little smile when he feels his lips twitching, because yeah, for a second there he was so jealous that he _did_ forget Cas doesn’t like women. “Even outside of that, there is no chance of anybody, man, woman, or otherwise, taking me away from you. Nobody could, because I’ve never felt more for anybody than I do for you,” he promises.

That starts to help the ice over his heart start to melt. “What happened to her? Are you still friends?”

“No,” Castiel says, sounding bitter now. “Once I broke things off, she sold the story of my first kiss to a magazine. She even gave them copies of text messages I sent her, which they cut and pasted together to make it look like I was some kind of sexual deviant,” Castiel tells him with a roll of his eyes. “I assure you, if she’s waiting in the wings to swoop in and try to come between us—”

“She’ll have to get through me first,” Dean says, lifting his face to show that he means it absolutely.

Castiel smiles tentatively. “Is that so?” Dean nods, feeling out of sorts but absolutely sure that he would do anything he had to do to keep somebody who was lucky enough to have Castiel’s first kiss and use it against him instead of cherishing it like the gift that it was away from him for good. “Can I take that to mean that perhaps you’ll forgive me my transgressions some day in the future, Your Highness?”

The title, which Castiel often uses to tease him, puts his back up now that it’s reminded him of who he is. “Are you only asking to see if I’m going to try to void the contract?”

“Fuck the contract,” Castiel replies. A forbidden thrill courses through his body at the sound of _Cas_ cursing in his low voice. He really has rubbed off on the older man. “The only thing I care about right now is _you,_ Dean. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Because Castiel has never given him a reason to believe anything else, he can’t find it in him to doubt his words now. He’s not about to hold a grudge against Castiel for something he did ten years ago, before Castiel even knew he existed, but his heart still feels undeniably heavy. “I’m not gonna hold it against you for the rest of your life or anything,” he finally says. “But I’m not gonna pretend it doesn’t hurt to find out like this, either. What if I never asked? Were you never going to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Cas says honestly. “I wasn’t intentionally trying to hide it from you, it just never occurred to me that it was something I should bring up. Either way, I’m just... I’m truly sorry, Dean. Perhaps I should have told you sooner. Before you agreed to let me court you. Certainly before what happened last night,” he says sadly. “If you want to go back to being friends and making the best out of a bad situation, I would be—well, I would be devastated to be completely honest with you—but I would understand.”

Still feeling petulant, Dean says, “I doubt you’d be devastated.”

“You shouldn’t. I don’t... I know I’ve told you this before, but I don’t think you grasp the depth that people don’t like me, Dean,” Castiel says frankly. “I’ve never gotten along with anybody so easily as I have with you. I’ve never smiled or laughed as much in a month as I do with you _every_ day. I feel like _myself_ for the first time in so long I didn’t even realize I was pretending to be somebody else until you came along.” He sounds so earnest, it’s impossible not to believe him, and Dean’s anger thaws further. “I understand if you don’t want to take me at my word after this, just let me know when you’ve made your decision.”

Dean rolls his eyes a little, and reluctantly admits, “I don’t wanna break up with you. I’m crazy about you, remember?”

Castiel smiles tentatively. “Yes, but you also seemed crazy mad a minute ago.”

He’s not overly enthused by having to admit his shortcomings, but knowing it’s the right thing to do anyway has him sighing heavily. Instead of looking up and facing Cas head-on, he keeps his head down and fiddles uselessly with his belt buckle. 

“I wasn’t mad. I was... jealous,” he mumbles. 

“Jealous?” Castiel repeats. Then softly, “Oh, Dean.” Castiel steps even closer, and although he seems to hesitate at first, he slides his hands up over his shoulders to loop his arms around Dean’s neck. “Is this okay?” Dean nods and carefully places his hands on Castiel’s hips in return, but he still keeps his head down. It’s stupid and juvenile to feel goosebumps crawl down his spine just from the sensation of Castiel’s thumb gently caressing the back of his neck, but apparently that’s par for the course for him. “I know my saying this likely won’t help, but I promise you, you have no reason to be jealous.”

“Logically, I get that,” Dean says. “But it doesn’t help when anytime I think of you kissing somebody else I want to punch something.”

“Don’t think about it,” Castiel suggests. “I don’t. I haven’t for years. The only person I’m thinking about now—the only person I haven’t been able to stop thinking about—is you.”

“That’s nice to hear, but the whole thing is still just... stupid, you know? I went my whole life without wanting anything to do with anybody who wanted me. Then I met you, and I finally started falling for somebody for the first time, and now I feel like a 12 year old girl for being jealous that you liked somebody else first.” 

“Would it appeal to the 12-year-old side of you to hear I like you the most?” Castiel asks softly. 

“I know you’re only joking, but it actually does make me feel a little bit better,” Dean confesses. 

“Then maybe telling you again without joking will help even more. I have never cared for anybody as much as I care for you. Every day I fall a little bit more, and a part of me knows it’s impossible and absolute madness, but I feel like it could be any second now that the rug is torn out from under my feet and I’ll fall the rest of the way in love for the first time. With you, Dean. Only you.” Castiel brings his hands to cup Dean’s face, and finally, Dean looks up. They make eye contact, and the way Castiel is looking at him—as if he’s the only thing in the whole realm that matters—almost brings him to his knees. “And I will tell you every day I am lucky enough to have the chance to. Every hour. Every minute if you want me to. No one else comes close to you, _en olapireta.”_

It’s just as ridiculous now to feel validated instead of placated by Castiel’s words as it was to feel jealous over a kiss that happened ten years ago with a woman Cas wasn’t even attracted to, but that’s still how he feels. 

“Tell me again,” Dean pleads, his voice barely above a whisper.

Castiel smiles one of those soft little smiles with crinkles around his eyes, the kind that makes Dean feel over-warm and breathless with the obvious enormity of Castiel’s feelings for him. “Only you,” Castiel repeats, dragging the backs of his fingers down the side of Dean’s face. “My light in the dark.”

They move together at the same time, and when their lips meet, it’s different enough right from the start that it’s almost like their first kiss all over again. It’s light and gentle. Four lips moving in tantalizing fragments, changing the angle and pressure increment by increment until they sink into the sweet spot Dean knows like the back of his hand already. It’s that bone-deep, pieces falling together, everything is right in the realm because he gets to have _this_ feeling that he craves like his next breath. It fills him from head-to-toe, leaving him breathless with his head spinning, and it’s as natural as anything when their mouths open to deepen the connection between them even further.

Cas makes a rough little sound in his throat before he delves deeper still, his thumb spanning the edge of Dean’s jaw, his touch feather-light but stunning with the enormity of what it makes Dean feel. Every one of Castiel’s touches is so intricately tender, causing something deep inside of him to ache so beautifully he can hardly withstand it. Kissing Cas is like all the best things he’s ever experienced combined and multiplied by ten, and it’s _so much_ it borders on too much, but fuck, how could he survive without this now that he knows the sublimity of this one man’s lips?

He doesn’t need to kiss another to know this is as good as it gets because his mind is incapable of dreaming up anything better, knows without needing any proof at all that this is _it._ _Cas_ is it. Cas is his, was his long before he walked into the castle, is his in any and all iterations of his existence, and it doesn’t matter if he got Cas’s first kiss or any kiss after as long as he has this one. As long he has Cas’s next kiss and every kiss after, as long as he gets a kiss before bed tonight and when they wake in the morning every day after that for the rest of his life, that will be more than enough for him. 

That will be paradise.

His breath hitches when he feels the electric buzz of what he knows is Castiel’s grace thrumming over his skin, making the tiny hairs on his arms lift and something inside of him _pulse_ with awareness—his soul’s recognition of its counterpoint—and everything changes in an instant. 

Because all at once, _he knows_ Cas isn’t just somebody he’s known for less than a week. He knows without knowing how that they’ve met before—maybe in another life, maybe in another realm, maybe somewhere he doesn’t even know the existence of yet—but as sure as he’s breathing in the familiar scent of the only man he was ever meant to be with, he knows this man, this soul, this angel. 

Cas was always meant to be his. To love him and protect him and show him the beauty of love in his life instead of the monotony of duty. And he was meant to be Castiel’s, to make Cas smile and laugh and think outside the box, to know without question that to somebody, to _him,_ the sun would refuse to shine in his life without Castiel in it. 

He wrenches his mouth away with a gasp, breathing heavily and trying to make sense of the enormity of everything he just felt. 

“Did you feel that?” he asks, sounding every bit as frantic as he feels.

“Feel what?” Castiel wonders.

And that’s when he notices Cas seems perfectly fine. His lips are a little puffy and his cheeks are a little pink, but other than him looking at Dean with heavily-lidded eyes brimming with affection, there’s no sense that Castiel felt anything like he did. 

It makes him flounder for a response. That _I know you_ feeling was intense and unlike anything he’s ever felt before, so how can he even begin to explain it when he doesn’t understand it? 

“I—I don’t know how to explain it. It was like... like puzzle pieces snapping into place inside of me. One of those realm-moving, life-changing, everything-will-be-different-after-this moments that you read about in corny romance novels that nobody’s ever really supposed to feel.”

“It was that good, was it?” Cas asks, chuckling quietly. Dean huffs out a small laugh himself and wraps his arms around Cas’s waist, letting the familiarity of Castiel’s body soothe his racing heart. “It feels like that every time I kiss you, Dean,” he says, more seriously now. “From the first time I held your face in my hand outside my bedroom door, I felt something inside of me call to you. I don’t know that I could resist it if I wanted to, so I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t want to.”

Because he likes the way that sounds, Dean brings their bodies closer together. He feels the way they’re both at least slightly aroused, and raises his eyebrows as he purposely rocks forward against Castiel’s burgeoning hardness. “Apparently I wasn’t the only one enjoying myself.”

“Your lips are like Heaven,” Castiel tells him, seemingly unashamed of his reaction.

Cas has him feeling almost unbearably fond of him right now, so he gives him another quick peck, then says two of his least favorite words. “I’m sorry about before, Cas.” Cas opens his mouth to stop him, but Dean shakes his head and keeps going. “I know you didn’t tell me, but I also know you weren’t trying to keep it from me on purpose. I just... got jealous... and overreacted because I assumed I was your first everything like you’re mine and it sucked to find out I wasn’t.”

“You don’t need to apologize for your emotions,” Castiel says. “On the other hand, I feel like _I_ should apologize for taking the chance to share our first kiss together away from you. Though to be honest with you, a part of me rather enjoyed knowing what I was doing so that I could make it good for you. I think I’d much prefer the memory of feeling you sink into it than you asking me what in gods’ names I’m trying to do.”

Dean laughs a little as he lets that sink in, and considering their first kiss was absolutely perfect, he can’t really disagree. “Yeah, alright. As long as I get the rest of your kisses, I guess I’ll forgive your non-apology, too.”

“There is no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life kissing. But you should know I’m well aware you’re only forgiving me so easily because we’re getting married in two days, and you forgot all about it until Sam reminded you.”

Laughter at Cas’s gall explodes out of him as some of the heaviness in the air disappears. “You forgot, too!”

Castiel keeps a straight face for about two seconds before he cracks, then he’s laughing through his own admission. “I did, but that doesn’t excuse you doing the same.”

Because Castiel is irresistible when he’s playful, Dean decides to go with it. “In that case, how about I make it up to you?”

Castiel seems very interested in this. “I’m listening.”

“How about...” Dean flicks his eyes to the side as he thinks, and when his gaze falls upon the stables behind Cas, he gets an idea. “How about I let you be the only other person _ever_ who’s taken my Baby for a ride? And before you answer, you should know Sam’s been begging for years, the grooms _always_ ask, hell, even _my dad_ tried to get on the back of that horse, and I _always_ turn them down. This is a huge step for me. _Huge.”_

“I would be absolutely honored,” Cas replies, sounding every bit as sincere as he should. In a funny way, even that helps cement that Cas is the right guy for him (contract or not) because not many people understand his connection to Baby. And then everything goes to hell when Cas adds, “But I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

Dean gapes at him, absolutely stunned. “What do you mean you don’t know how to ride a horse?” 

Castiel shrugs. “I’ve never done it.”

“You're a Prince! Didn’t they teach you that in all those etiquette classes along with all your fancy talk?”

“No,” Cas laughs. “They taught me how to treat the driver of the car I’d be chauffeured around in, though, if you think Baby might like that.” 

“Baby ain’t a _driver,_ Cas. She’s a rare and magnificent member of the animal kingdom. She's a badass, and I’m gonna teach you how to ride her.”

Castiel huffs, but he doesn’t stop Dean from pulling him towards the stables. It looks like Cesar has just started grooming her, but when he and Castiel approach him, he hands over the brush without a word and then tells Dean he’ll see to the other horses and to holler if they need anything. 

Like the last time he and Cas spent time with Baby, she’s almost as receptive to Cas’s touch as she is to Dean’s. If it was anybody else, he’d probably be miffed by how quickly she warmed up to him, but instead he’s almost proud that Baby recognizes what a good man Cas is and wonders if she might somehow know how important Cas has become to him. Whatever the reason is, it’s much easier than he expected it to be to get Castiel up in Baby’s saddle, and _damn,_ does he look good on the back of his horse with his fancy clothes and muscular thighs hugging Baby’s sides.

“I’m almost jealous your thighs are wrapped around her instead of me,” Dean quips, eyeing him appreciatively. 

Cas sputters for a few seconds before he seems to recover. “You can have your turn again later tonight.”

Just that has fire racing through his veins, and he has to take a deep breath in order to calm himself down. “How do you feel? Because you look amazing.”

“I feel okay,” Castiel answers. “I can already tell my backside is going to be sore, though.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “You get used to it,” he promises. “Let’s take a little walk, okay?”

Castiel looks apprehensive, but he gazes down at Dean. “You’ll stay with me the whole time?”

“Yeah, Cas, I got you.” Castiel nods his permission, so Dean leads Baby towards the path they usually ride. He’s thankful it’s not too warm a day because it’s a long walk, but he doesn’t complain as he and Castiel chat idly about their surroundings and anything else that occurs to him. They wind up in a patch of wildflowers where Dean picked the bouquet the first night Castiel joined him for dinner, and together, they pick another one for tonight. He helps Cas dismount, and Castiel tells him about the different kinds as they gather them. It brings back memories of their picnic in the garden, and it’s weird to realize that was only a few days ago when he already feels like he knows Cas so much better now. 

“Listening to you tell me about flowers reminds me of the picnic we had in the garden. Kind of crazy to think that was only three days ago, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Castiel agrees. “I know this is going to sound cliche, but I feel like I’ve known you so much longer than that.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Honestly, it’s strange, but a part of me always felt like that. I’ve felt more at ease and more myself with you from the very first day than I have in years. Something about you has always been very comforting to me.”

Because all of this, everything from the first night they met to this moment in the forest right now, has been like a fairy tale, Dean indulges himself and his earlier thoughts by putting them into words. “Maybe we were always meant to be together.”

Castiel straightens up from where he was in a crouch picking flowers just to walk over to kiss him, melting his insides like butter from the abundance of tenderness. Something has shifted between them since they made up earlier—since Castiel admitted to the depth of his feelings, maybe—and he can only hope Cas feels the same unshakable knowledge that what started as a forced relationship is now more real than anything he could have predicted. 

“It may be foolish and even childish to admit it, but I believe that with everything I am, Dean. You were always meant to be mine.”

Hearing the verbal confirmation of what he felt when he kissed Cas a little while ago has him sure and confident enough to confess his own feelings. “Cas... I know it’s crazy, but I think... I’m falling in love with you, too.”

Castiel’s expression goes _so soft,_ so open and so full of affection, and those already big blue eyes of his seem even bigger when he looks at him now. “Oh, Dean. My sweet, sweet Dean,” Castiel breathes. “We can be crazy together, because I am right there with you.”

He knew that already, and still, hearing it repeated is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. But as much as he wants to bask in the happiness, knowing that he’s days away from having everything he ever wanted and that there’s a chance his father is going to try to take it away from him shakes him to the core.

He doesn’t want to keep focusing on it, but between every moment of happiness and every kiss, it’s there, hovering over him like a dark cloud he can’t get away from no matter how much he wants to. 

“I can’t lose you now, Cas. I _can’t.”_

“You won’t,” Cas promises. “I will never let that happen. I swear to you, Dean. Don’t even spare a thought to the impossibility.”

“You don’t know my dad,” he says darkly. 

“And you don’t know how far I will go to keep you in my life,” Cas says back. Even though they’re very much alone, he whispers, “I stayed awake late last night with you in my arms thinking about what we can do. And I have a plan, my love. I’m entirely confident that it will work, but I have a backup plan if I need it, and two more to fall back on after that just in case, and I haven’t even spoken with my father yet who will undoubtedly be on our side. You needn’t worry.”

Dean’s both excited that Castiel has been thinking about this enough to come up with so many plans, and terrified at the idea of Castiel trying to go head-to-head with his dad. “What are your plans?”

“Do you trust me?” Castiel asks.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then you know everything you need to know. I don’t want to put you in the position of having to lie to your father, okay?”

Dean licks his lips, trying to decide how much of this he’s willing to put in Castiel’s hands. He’s always been the kind of guy to take care of things himself, so leaving what has come to be one of the most important things in his life to someone else isn’t easy. But other than downright refusing to marry anybody else and warning Sam to do the same (which he should definitely do at the first opportunity), he doesn’t know what else he can possibly do, and if Castiel has ideas that he doesn’t... 

“Just promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid,” he finally decides.

“You have my word.” Dean nods and tries to let it go now that he knows he’s agreed to trust Castiel with this. “Do you think we have enough flowers?” Cas wonders, obviously trying to change the subject.

Dean looks at the bunch in Castiel’s hand and the bunch in his, and snickers a little. “I think we’ve got enough for two bouquets here.”

“Perhaps we can put one in your bedroom,” Castiel suggests.

“Gonna be _our_ bedroom in a couple days,” Dean reminds him. “I’ll have to make sure to keep fresh flowers in there for you, too.”

“You’re really setting yourself up for a high standard to maintain, you know.”

“You’re worth it.”

Castiel shakes his head fondly. “And you are extremely charming when you want to be.”

“Your Highness?” They both look towards Rufus, who has been following them from a distance all this time. “Joanna is waving us back to the castle.”

Dean looks up at the sky. “Probably for lunch. You hungry?”

“I ate a little late, but I could stand to snack on some fruit.”

“Another thing I’ll make sure you have every day,” Dean promises. “Let’s get you back up here to ride back.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to walking you back,” Castiel offers.

“Yeah, but once I get on her, Baby’s going to want to ride and I don’t wanna get her all excited for nothing. You don’t have to ride her if you don’t want to, though.”

“Somebody should,” Castiel decides. “Alright, help me up.”

It’s easier the second time around, but he’s no less awed by the sight of Castiel on the back of his Baby. He holds onto all of the flowers so that Cas can get a good grip on the reins, and together, they start their walk back to the stables.


	10. Chapter 10

After a light lunch with Gabriel and Sam’s company, Sam goes back to the library for more classes, and Dean, Cas, and Gabriel head back outside since it’s such a beautiful day. Since this may be the last afternoon he and Castiel have to spend together without any other responsibilities, Dean decides to do something fun and sets up a game of croquet for them to play. They invite Gabriel to play, too, but he tells them to enjoy themselves and finds a comfortable spot to keep an eye on them from a distance.

Castiel wins the first game, and because Dean doesn’t like losing without putting up a decent fight, he challenges Cas to the best two out of three. Dean wins the second round, but he has his suspicions that Cas was purposely going easy on him because Castiel wins the third without even breaking a sweat. 

That’s enough to give Castiel what he was looking for the day before, because Dean pouts spectacularly once Castiel’s ball hits the peg. Castiel laughs with his head thrown back as soon as he gets a look at him, but then he takes Dean in his arms and legitimately _dips him_ as he places a loud, smacking kiss on his lips that turns his pout into a shy little smile. 

“You are every bit as irresistible as I feared you would be when you pout,” Castiel tells him, pulling him back up to straighten out. 

“So I should do that first next time so you let me win?” Dean checks.

“Absolutely not,” Castiel declares. “Because I’ll never be able to say no to you, and that means _you_ will never learn how to lose graciously.”

“Overrated skill,” Dean shoots back. “Who needs to lose graciously when I have such a handsome prince to kiss me until I feel better?”

“And do you feel better?” Castiel checks.

Dean pretends to think about it for a moment, then says, “I think I need a few more kisses to be sure.”

“What a shocking turn of events,” Castiel replies, but he certainly doesn’t waste any time cupping the nape of Dean’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss. 

This one is much less playful than the one before, and when Castiel parts Dean’s lips with his tongue and licks into his mouth, Dean groans at the sensation. He slides his hands into Castiel’s hair as Cas curls his tongue against his, sending heat shooting through his body as they deepen the kiss. They kiss hungrily, like the few hours they’ve been playing outside was far too long for both of them to be without this even when it was within arm’s reach the whole time, and he moves in closer still until he feels Castiel’s familiar but no less intoxicating muscular body flush with his. 

He feels Cas start to pull away, but he hasn’t gotten his fill quite yet, so he fists his hands in his hair and reels him back in to nibble at his full bottom lip. Cas makes a sound of protest that quickly turns into a moan of pleasure against his lips when Dean seals their mouths together and flicks the tip of his tongue against Cas’s, and only _then_ does he allow their kiss to come to a stop. 

They look into each other’s eyes, both breathing heavier than usual, but both with smiles on their faces. “Better yet?” Castiel cheeks. 

“Hmmm,” Dean debates. “I think you might have to finish making it up to me when we’re alone.”

 _“I_ think that’s the best idea you’ve had all day,” Castiel replies, grinning mischievously. 

“After dinner,” Dean says, playfully winding his fingers through Castiel’s thick hair. “How about we lock ourselves in my bedroom, get naked, and see if we can figure out how many different times we can get each other off before we die,” he proposes.

Castiel’s eyes darken, but he takes what feels like a deliberate step back as he brings their hands together between them. “That sounds like a perfectly valid way to spend a few hours, if you ask me. Perhaps we should freshen up before dinner to ensure we’re both free from sweat and dirt before I attempt to sample every inch of your skin tonight.”

“We could freshen up together in my shower,” Dean suggests. “That way we’d save water _and_ get a jump start on the after dinner activities.”

Cas chuckles but shakes his head. “Something tells me that would lead to us skipping dinner entirely.”

He’s probably right. “But who’s gonna wash my back?” he asks, purposely sticking his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout that has Cas laughing outright.

“You’ll manage,” Cas says, his eyes dancing with fondness. He brings Dean’s hand up to his mouth and presses a chaste kiss to the back of it that makes Dean’s heart pound hard against his ribs. “I’ll see you at dinner, my insatiable prince.”

It’s ridiculous that his heart aches from the very sight of Castiel walking away from him, especially because he knows it will only be a few short hours before they’re together again. He sneaks into the castle through the back door of the kitchen, finding Ellen and Jo both already preparing dinner. It looks like they’re having chicken kiev, which not only is one of his favorite meals, but also happens to be something that can be served individually. Maybe...

“What has you thinking so hard over there?” Jo asks him.

“You know how Cas planned that picnic for me in the garden?” he asks.

“I do,” Ellen responds. “That Prince of yours damn near melted my stone-cold heart that day.”

“He was so cute, Dean,” Jo gushes. “He spoke so properly with his shoulders square and head held high, but he was blushing the whole time, looking like he was afraid one wrong word would have him out on his ear.”

Dean smiles at the mental image. “Okay, that’s adorable.”

“It really was,” Jo agrees. 

“Seems like I oughta do something nice back, don’t you think?” he wonders. 

They both turn to him with almost scarily-wide eyes, and Jo claps her hands together while she makes a sound Dean can only describe as a squeal. Ellen laughs but gives her a little swat, and Jo quiets down while Dean wonders what the heck just happened to his usually level-headed friend. 

“I’ll help you take her down to the dungeons and lock her up if you think she’s totally lost it,” Dean tells Ellen. 

“Shut up, I’m excited!” Jo explains. “I’m living vicariously through you two, you know.”

“What did you have in mind, son?” Ellen asks him. 

“I don’t really know. Maybe a candlelit dinner for just the two of us?” he suggests. 

“Out on the balcony!” Jo exclaims. 

“My balcony?” he wonders. 

“Oh, that would be nice,” Ellen agrees. “Put a tablecloth over that old table in your room and a few chair covers that’re here for the wedding, then put it all out on the balcony. I can get some sparkling wine chilling, have everything served covered and on a trolley so you can eat at your leisure.”

“You’ll have a hell of a view of the sunset, too,” Jo says dreamily. “Oh, it sounds perfect. I’m so _jealous.”_

“It hasn’t even happened yet,” Dean reminds her. “I’m not used to serving and everything. What if I screw it up?” 

“I figure he probably packs up and leaves without so much as a goodbye, huh?” Ellen says, sounding amused. He rolls his eyes, but truthfully, her sarcastic reply helped remind him that Cas doesn’t care if he’s fancy or not. If he screws it up, they’ll laugh together and move past it. Cas likes him the way he is. 

“Okay, you’ve made your point. Let’s do it.”

Ellen turns to Jo. “You take care of his room, I’ll take care of the food. Help him pick out something nice to wear, and for heaven’s sake, change his sheets from last night.”

Dean’s face gets decidedly warm at what _that_ implies, and once Jo sees his reaction, she wrinkles her nose at him. “Ew.” 

“Shut up,” he says quickly. 

_“You_ shut up,” she echoes. 

“Joanna!” Ellen chastises, sounding exasperated. 

“Sorry!” Jo says automatically, but as soon as they step into the hallway and away from Ellen, she says, “Guess I should’ve said, _‘You_ shut up, _Your Highness.’”_

A bark of laughter escapes him, and he gives her a gentle shove that has her shoulder bouncing lightly off of the castle wall. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I can still take you down, you know,” she threatens. 

“Pffft. Even _Bobby_ can’t take me down anymore.”

“Well maybe I’ll have to show him how it’s done,” Jo says.

They bicker about it the whole way to his room, and only stop once they cross the threshold and there’s work to be done. Together, the two of them move the tiny table out through the balcony doors, then after what feels like _years_ of hemming and hawing, Jo selects a fancy jacket with a neck thing he’s never worn before and insists that’s what he should wear tonight. 

He frowns at it, and asks, “Are you sure?”  
  
“Growing up with you may make me immune to your looks and your supposed charm, _Your Highness,_ but I am still generally attracted to men, and I can guarantee you that Castiel is going to like the way you look in these clothes. Just put them on and _then_ try to tell me I’m wrong,” she challenges.

“Fine,” Dean sighs.

“I’ll strip your sheets and replace them with your other set while you shower and dress, then I’ll start on the table and try to set the mood a little.”

With the plan now put into words, Dean goes to clean himself up. He takes his time in the shower and uses his nicest-smelling soap to wash more thoroughly than usual, then painstakingly styles his hair until it’s his best wind-swept look in ages, and finally steps into the clothes Jo picked out. His first thought is that he’s thankful there’s a stretch to the faux-leather pants, because that means at least half of him won’t be uncomfortable. He puts on the fitted blouse underneath, sure he’s never worn anything like it and silently marvels at whatever shiny fabric this is as he tucks it into his pants. 

The faux-leather vest goes on next, and he feels like a bad ass in leather right until he has to add the stupid neck thing—a cravat, he sees now. It’s a nice shade of forest green at least, and the moment he secures it with a cravat pin and his eyes flick up to see his reflection instead of the fabric for the first time, he can understand why the tailor chose this particular shade of green. It almost matches his eyes exactly. 

Now all that’s left is the jacket, and once again, he’s blown away by the intricate fabric he has the chance to wear for the first time. The inside feels like cotton, but the outside has an expensive-looking lace overlay that’s absolutely gorgeous. This must be one of the new outfits he was fitted for the day before Castiel arrived. He just never bothered with them once he got to know Cas and realized it didn’t matter what he wore.

Regardless, he slips the thigh-length garment on now, incredibly impressed with how light and comfortable it feels as he pops the collar as usual. Stepping back so he can see more of his reflection in the mirror, even he can see how the many details bring the whole outfit together. The large, dull silver buttons down the lapel of the jacket match the buckles on the leather vest, and the leather itself adds a masculine touch to an otherwise delicate-looking jacket. Together, they’re stunning, and he has to hand it to Jo, because even the small pop of color from the cravat adds the perfect touch. 

He looks slim with a muscular set of shoulders, and also like he took the required time to put himself together without overdoing it too much. He looks good, and he’s absolutely certain that Cas is going to think so, too. He pulls the bathroom door open with a flourish and steps out with his head held obnoxiously high. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Jo says. Dean relaxes, turns her way, and opens his arms in the universal gesture for, _How do I look?_ “Was I right, or was I right?” Jo asks.

“You were right,” Dean admits. “I look awesome.”

“Whoever chose that green for you is a genius. And I am _so_ borrowing this jacket someday. It’ll look amazing over a little black dress,” she declares, which makes him snort a laugh. “It all fits you like a glove, makes you look rich and handsome, and still manages to be rough enough around the edges so that you still look like you. We make a hell of a team,” she comments.

“That we do,” he agrees. “What can I do to help?”

“You can help me with the tablecloth.” He does as she asks, and together, they put the tablecloth and chair covers on. Jo shoos him away after that, but he watches the way she sets the table with some of their fanciest plates and glasses. She uses some the flowers he and Cas brought in from the field, but places a second bouquet in his hands. 

“To take down when you go pick him up for dinner,” she says. 

He smiles softly at the very idea of Cas’s reaction to getting flowers, and asks, “Did somebody tell him to dress up, too?”

“I did. I also told him dinner would be at six, so we better get a move on.” 

A half an hour later, there are dozens of candles scattered all over his bedroom, a stereo playing classical music, and the table is set fit for a king. There’s flowers in the middle, the sparkling wine he likes chilling in a bucket of ice, and Ellen is going to bring up the food when he leaves to fetch Castiel so it has the opportunity to stay warm for as long as possible. 

“I think that’s it,” Jo says, surveying the room. “It’s romantic as hell, and once again, I feel compelled to remind you how lucky you are and how much I hate your guts.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and slings his arm companionably around her shoulder, letting his head tilt enough to rest his temple on top of Jo’s head for a rare moment of sincerity between them. “Thanks for all this. I know it probably seems like overkill when me and Cas have only known each other for less than a week, but it’s kinda nice to have a chance to sweep him off his feet a little before we get married. I don’t want him to miss out on this kinda stuff just because it was an arranged marriage.”

“Then make sure you keep doing it after you’re married, too. Might be a little backwards, but I’m sure it will still mean something to him. He’s obviously the sentimental type,” she comments. 

“You have no idea,” Dean gushes. “He’s the best.”

“I’m happy for you,” she says sincerely. A moment later, she shrugs him off of her and asks, “You ready to go get your man?”

“Born ready,” Dean replies, sounding far more sure than he feels. 

Jo snorts a laugh. “You’re shitting yourself, aren’t you?”

“100%,” he admits without hesitation. 

“Grab the flowers, stud. You got this. Rufus will be at the end of the hall, so if you need anything let him know and we’ll see to it for you.” Dean nods, and she gives him a friendly pat on the back. “I’ll give you a minute to get your shit together before you go. Be yourself, and try to have fun.”

“Thanks for everything,” he says again. And just like that, he’s left alone for a few minutes to collect himself until he feels confident enough to escort Castiel to dinner. 

He gets halfway to Castiel’s room before he realizes he doesn’t have the fucking flowers and has to go back for them, but thankfully Rufus doesn’t comment on it and he’s too embarrassed to look him in the face to see his expression. He takes an extra second to center himself with a deep breath before he knocks on Castiel’s door, and it’s a damn good thing, too, because it all comes out in a rush when he gets a look at the older man all dressed up. 

If he thought Cas looked rich before, it’s nothing compared to now. He’s in ivory from head-to-toe, silk by the look of it, with elaborate golden feathers embroidered into the fabric. There’s several silk golden feathers piled on top of each other on his right shoulder creating a one-sided shoulder pad, and a thick golden sash tied around his waist on the left. The ivory jacket is double breasted with two rows of golden buttons done straight up to his neck, where a golden tie is scrunched up perfectly. 

He’s wearing pointed ivory silk shoes with a slight heel that look like they alone cost more than everything on Dean’s body, and as he drags his eyes all the way up from Castiel’s feet to his incredibly handsome face, the whole picture comes together and steals any filter he was going to attempt to have in place tonight. 

“Holy shit.”

Cas’s face cracks on a smile, but he doesn’t miss a beat before he replies. “I could say the same for you, Dean. Good grace, I’ve never seen you look so handsome—and believe me— _that’s_ saying something.”

Dean can feel his cheeks heat up, but he does find his footing enough to recover. “I meant to say you look amazing, but you have a terrible habit of stealing my breath every time I see you.” Castiel’s expression turns soft, and he knows Cas remembers what he said the first night they met. He holds the flowers out next. “These are for you.”

“The flowers we picked,” Castiel says, smiling fondly. “Thank you. They look beautiful arranged like this.”

“I take no credit for that, but I’m glad you like them.” 

Castiel turns to prop the bouquet up on top of his dresser, then turns back to Dean. “So what’s the special occasion? Do we have guests?”

“Nope. I was hoping you’d do me the honor of joining me for a private dinner,” he explains. 

“Just the two of us?”

“Yeah. If you’re up for it?”

“That sounds lovely,” Cas replies. 

Dean crooks his arm and holds it out for Castiel to take with a deliberate air of over-confidence, and he’s pleased when Castiel takes it without a hitch. “So polite, Your Highness. I didn’t know you had it in you,” Cas teases. 

“I did say I could fake it well enough on occasion,” Dean reminds him. He leads him down the hallway, but when Castiel goes to turn towards the dining room, Dean tightens his grip and keeps walking. “This way, handsome.”

“We’re not eating in the dining room?”

“Nope. Got something special set up for you somewhere else.”

“Are you being purposely vague?” Castiel wonders. Dean chuckles as he leads him towards the corridor that goes to his bedroom. There’s literally only his and Sam’s bedrooms and the library down here, so he understands Castiel’s confused head tilt. He also gets a kick out of the increased skepticism Cas shows on his face when he leads the way to his bedroom and pauses outside the door.

He remains silent as he opens the door and walks into his room, but turns just in time to see the look on Castiel’s face when he steps into candlelight. The little table is framed perfectly by the open doors, and with the flowers as the centerpiece and the candles flickering and dancing on the silver dish covers, it looks pretty fancy.

“Did you do this?” Castiel asks.

“Mostly Jo,” Dean confesses. “But I helped, and it was sorta my idea.”

“You didn’t have to do all this just for me,” Castiel says, turning towards him. 

“Didn’t have to,” Dean agrees. “But I wanted to do something nice for you. Got myself all dressed up like a real prince, picked the flowers, lit the candles. Hell, I even got some sparkling wine for you, Cas. Pulled out all the stops.”

“This is very sweet. And more romantic than I honestly thought you were at heart,” he teases lightly. “But I hope I haven’t given you any reason to doubt that I like the rough around the edges version of you, well, frankly, an unreasonable amount.”

“You didn’t,” Dean assures him. “And believe me, I’m still gonna be rough around the edges, I just happen to have some new clothes on. Clothes that were originally purchased just for me to impress you, as a matter of fact.” He says that with a grin, winding his arms around Cas’s neck and leaning in nice and close to finish. “So I say we just be ourselves, enjoy the sunset and the seat covers originally intended for our wedding in two days, maybe get a little wine drunk, and if things go well, leave all these fancy clothes in a heap on the floor at the end of the night.”

Castiel kisses him before the last word is all the way out of his mouth, and by the time he recovers, Cas already has their lips lined up just right and Dean’s body melting against his. Cas maintains that sweet, tender pressure for several long seconds before he ends the kiss. “That sounds like the perfect ending to the perfect day. Thank you, Dean. Truly.”

Dean flashes a smile, and says, “Let’s go take a load off.” They cross the room and step out onto the balcony, settling into seats across from one another. “Should I pour the wine?” Dean asks.

“I think I had better do it seeing as you’re not even of age,” Castiel says, reaching for the bottle.

“Memory must be going on you already, old man. I told you I’m 19, remember?”

“The legal drinking age is 21 in the LOA. What is it here?” Castiel wonders.

“19,” he laughs.

“Huh. Why have we never been offered wine before now, then? Because of Sam?”

“We don’t serve it often. I’m guessing that has to do with my dad always getting a little too loose-lipped, and honestly a little mean whenever he drinks, but nobody really came out and said it. Probably a habit more than anything for Ellen not to put any out before now.” Castiel has just been staring at the bottle since he grabbed it, and Dean pauses until Cas looks up. “If Jo wrote you a love letter on there, I’m gonna have to kick her out of the castle.”

Castiel grins but shakes his head. “No. I just realized I’ve never actually opened a bottle with a cage on it before.” He looks almost bashful that he doesn’t know how to do it, and it’s fucking adorable. “It seems like a straightforward enough concept, though.”

Dean holds his hand out. “I got you, Cas.”

Castiel hesitates, but only for a moment before he hands it over. “Thank you. I guess I’m a little bit more spoiled than I thought.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drag you back down to my level in no time. Look, all you do is...”

Together, they get the wine open and start in on their soup. Thanks to Cas’s small blunder with the wine, the mood is more relaxed as they settle into their meal. They talk a little bit about what a day looks like inside Castiel’s castle and what kind of help he’s used to having at home. Dean finds out that Cas grew up with a lot more servants than they have here since his dad wasn’t around much, and that although he has four older brothers, he’s not close with any of them. More interestingly, he learns a lot more about Castiel’s childhood. He probably should have already known this, but it’s Cas’s mom who carried the royal blood in their family, which is why he doesn’t have the same last name as his father. Cas gets extra quiet when he talks about his mother passing from an illness when he was just a boy, so Dean makes sure to comfort him with a squeeze of his hand before he steers the conversation to lighter subjects.

The main course is just as good as the soup, and by the time they’ve both managed to clear their plates, they’ve almost finished the bottle of wine. Of course, that means they’re both flushed and giggly, but honestly, Dean’s been feeling extra bubbly on the inside since the first time he and Cas kissed, so it’s kinda nice to have an excuse to let it all out. The sun is sinking steadily in the sky, the candles seeming to get brighter as they shrink, and they’ve been holding hands across the table for what could be days for as far as he can tell.

“Why don’t you come over here and sit with me while we watch the sunset and finish the wine?” Castiel asks quietly. Dean gets up and starts to drag his chair over, but Castiel shakes his head and instead, pushes back from the table to pat his lap. 

“You want me to sit in your lap?”

“There’s plenty of space,” Castiel replies. “And I’d like to hold you, honestly.”

He rolls his eyes a little for show, but there’s no way he’s gonna say no to that. He slinks over with the wine bottle in hand, stands in the vee of Castiel’s legs, and says, “Is there a right way to do this?”

“As long as you don’t accidentally knee me anywhere particularly sensitive, I’m sure there’s no wrong way.” Dean laughs, but _carefully_ sits himself sideways on Cas’s lap, shuffling down a little bit until he can put his head on Cas’s shoulder. Cas wraps his arms around him, taking his weight and letting him lean back comfortably. “There. Isn’t that better?” Castiel asks.

Castiel’s voice is low and his breath is warm on the shell of his ear, and the sensation is familiar enough that it lulls his eyes to close. He keeps them closed as he snuggles in, smiling happily at just how _nice_ this is. It’s simple, being here at home, sharing his time and a meal with Cas, and his heart fills when he thinks about how excited he is to do this again tomorrow and as many days into the future as he can imagine. So, yes, this is much better than sitting across from Cas with a table between them. 

“Everything’s always better with you.”

Castiel kisses his hair and squeezes him gently. “Maybe the wine went to your head more than I thought,” he teases. 

“Maybe the wine’s loosening my tongue, too,” Dean teases back. 

“Well in that case, tell me all your secrets,” Castiel whispers.

“My head _is_ feeling a little floaty,” Dean admits, which makes Castiel snicker. “But you make me feel like that a lot, so who’s to say if it’s the wine or the company?”

“Hmmm. You’re a very insightful drunk.”

Dean chuckles, but insists, “I’m not drunk!”

Castiel murmurs into his ear, “Maybe you’re drunk on me.”

That isn’t far from the truth, but just to keep up the playful mood, he says, “Maybe _you’re_ a little drunk.”

Castiel’s laugh is low and smooth, rumbling through his chest and against Dean. “I’m definitely drunk on you,” Castiel says gently, sounding entirely sincere this time. “Absolutely enchanted with everything about you. Awestruck by how much you can make me feel already.”

“Do you have the warm and fuzzies going on, too?” Dean asks. 

“Oh yes,” Castiel confirms. “And sometimes there’s this fluttering in my stomach—” 

“The cliche nervous butterflies,” Dean says for him. 

“It’s a cliche for a reason,” Castiel points out, and Dean can’t argue with that. “Thank you for all of this tonight, Dean. It’s funny that we’ve spent so much time together and somehow I still felt like we needed this romantic evening for just the two of us.”

Dean’s floaty good mood dulls a little at the mention of that. “Kinda feels like time’s running out,” he says quietly. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Castiel asks. “Which is ridiculous, because we’re going to be married soon. Then we’ll have forever.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same. I feel like the time for me and you to just _be_ without any politics or judgement is almost up.” Castiel doesn’t say anything to dispute that, but he doesn’t agree either, so he elaborates after letting it roll around in his head for a little bit. “When my dad gets home... well, who knows what it’s going to be like. I’m pretty sure it won’t be playing croquet and having picnics in the garden, though. No way is he going to let shit like that fly during the day when there’s work I could be doing instead.”

“Then you and I will disappear into the trees for a picnic at twilight in our free time,” Castiel declares. “You can teach me to swim in the moonlight, and we’ll stand out here together every night from now on, kissing in front of the sunset just because we can.” Castiel kisses him on the temple and lowers his face to nuzzle into Dean’s neck. “He can disapprove, Dean,” Cas says quietly. “But he can’t come between us. Not if you feel even a fraction of what I feel.”

It’s childish, but he’s so filled with hope he’s desperate to hear it. “You promise?”

“I promise. I will wait for a kiss goodnight before the sun sets every night for all of eternity for you, _en olapireta.”_

Somehow, hearing those words changes everything in an instant. Something _shifts,_ opens, _realigns_ inside of him, making room for something new and gigantic and thrilling to peek through. 

Dean realizes it’s love he’s feeling for the first time while he and Castiel sit on the balcony, wrapped up in each other’s arms, watching the sun sinking in the sky. It seems to fill millions of tiny cracks inside of him, little by little, like the beginnings of what will undoubtedly be a massive tree someday taking root in his heart. By the time the stars are shining down on him and Cas, Dean can almost envision the last dregs of today’s sunlight finding a forever home in his chest to provide the light for the long-lasting love that will grow between them. 

He feels fundamentally changed, like whoever he is from this moment on is markedly different than who he was only a second ago, because that was before the right words said at the right moment from the right man were the catalyst for all of this warmth inside of him to blossom into something so beautiful and so pure, the only possible word worthy of describing it is love. 

He’s in love with Cas. 

The realization is nearly enough to have him questioning his own sanity, but he can’t deny that he feels what he feels, and what else could this pristine, sunny sensation inside of him borne from Cas’s particular presence _be_ if not love?

It’s every bit as remarkable as it is surprising, but neither of those things change the fact that he’s in love with Castiel. 

He doesn’t want to share it yet, this secret, brand-new, life-changing feeling so deep inside of him, but he’s more than happy to bask in it, to sit in Castiel’s lap and give himself a little time to get more familiar with and less overwhelmed by such a strong emotion. So they sit together, mostly in silence, while they finish off the wine and enjoy the uninterrupted closeness and each other’s company. As the evening begins to pass them by, Dean decides he wants to do something to mark the significant discovery of his first love in his memory. So with the classical music providing the perfect motivation, he sits up in Castiel’s lap and gazes down at him with a smile that seems to stretch from ear-to-ear. 

“Did they teach you how to dance in the fancy Land of Angels?”

“They did, as a matter of fact,” Castiel replies. “Would you like to dance with me beneath the stars, my prince?”

Will he ever not blush from hearing the way Castiel manages to lace those words with so much affection? He has serious doubts. It helps that his face is already pink, though, because now he can say what he wants to without having to worry it will embarrass him into a blush. “I know it's sorta lame, but I always kinda had a knack for it.”

“I don’t think it’s lame. In fact, I would be delighted to dance with you.” Even though it was his idea, Dean climbs out of the comfort of Castiel’s lap and onto his feet reluctantly. He walks out in front of the table where there’s the most space, but one thing becomes almost immediately apparent. “I don’t think we have enough space out here for any traditional dances,” Castiel says, stealing the words straight from his mind.  
“Probably just as well. Who’d lead anyway?” Dean quips, earning himself a twitch of Castiel’s lips and a smile that’s all in his eyes. 

_“But_ we can still dance.” 

Castiel steps into Dean’s space, puts one hand around his waist with a significant look, and holds one hand out to the side. Dean takes it even though that means Cas is going to lead, but when Dean’s hand fits so perfectly onto Castiel’s strong shoulder, Dean decides there’s not a damn thing wrong with being led by Cas. They wait for the music to restart, Cas counts the beat, then urges him to take two steps to the right, two steps forward, two to the left, and two steps back all to the music, and before they’ve even completed their first full circuit, they’ve fallen into a perfect rhythm. They move in a flawless back-and-forth, give-and-take, moving seamlessly with eye contact and smiles on their faces just for one another. It’s easy to dance with Cas, just like it’s easy to talk with him and sit with him and fall asleep with him, and Dean finds himself feeling light on his feet while simultaneously falling deeper in love with every passing second. 

He laughs but secretly enjoys himself when Castiel leads him into a twirl and a dip, and this time, when Cas leans in to slot their lips together, there’s nothing playful about it like there was outside. _This_ kiss seems every bit as significant as the moment that inspired it, as if all Castiel had to do was feel Dean’s lips beneath his own to know how he feels, how inconceivably real his feelings are, and Castiel pulls away with a gasp and his eyes searching Dean’s. He pulls Dean to standing, moves both hands to frame his face, and looks so deeply into his eyes that Dean wouldn’t be surprised if Cas could see directly into his soul. 

When Cas finally speaks to break the silent, heated eye contact they’ve fallen into, his words are so soft and his voice so reverent that even though Dean doesn’t speak the language, it seems perfectly clear what he’s saying. 

_“Olani hoath ol.”_

And before Dean can even begin to process how unbelievably gratifying that is to hear, Castiel kisses him again, stealing his breath with the sheer amount of tenderness between them. The unique, masculine scent of Castiel swirls in his nostrils when he inhales, and as Castiel sweeps his tongue into Dean’s mouth, Dean tastes the fruity wine upon it and groans against Castiel’s plush lips as he gives himself over to the older man. There’s just something about the way Cas kisses him that has him sinking into it every single time, his mind going blank and his body going lax, and it’s so toe-curlingly good that all he can possibly do is take it, cherish it, and silently wish that this never ends. 

That Cas kisses him just like this every day for the rest of his life. 

Castiel’s lips are intoxicating and addictive, and when Cas steps closer still and his hands slide down Dean’s body, pulling him in until every inch of them is lined up from lips to knees, Dean is in paradise. Nothing has ever felt so right as the way they fit together without even trying, so easy as the way their lips align and their breathing syncs up to allow them to continue this kiss for all of eternity if they want to. 

And Dean certainly does. 

If he could, he’d stay right here in this moment for the rest of time, when he and Cas are so enraptured with the new things they’re feeling, with each other, with the luxurious taste of each other’s lips and the immaculate fit of their bodies together. But that’s not how real life works, so when Cas finally breaks the seal of their lips what could very well be hours later, Dean sighs a contented sigh and doesn’t even try to hide how the stars in his eyes put there by Cas probably outshine the ones in the sky. 

“Will you humor me for a moment?” Castiel asks. His voice must be _at least_ an octave lower than usual, and because Dean is all too-aware of the heat that’s building in his groin, he nods, and watches with confusion when Castiel drops to one knee in front of him. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have a ring,” Castiel begins, and just those few words are enough to shock him so completely he can’t quite catch his breath. “But if there’s one thing you’ve taught me since we met, it’s that there are countless things more valuable than riches. There’s your smile, for example. The fit of your hand in mine, the sound of your laughter, and the unique and indescribable way you make me feel each and every time you look into my eyes. To outsiders, it may seem improbable or maybe even ludicrous, but in my heart, I know you feel what I feel. That you are the one I have been waiting for, the man I was always meant to be with, and the only man capable of making me fall so endlessly in love that the very idea of _not_ loving you is even more impossible than living another moment without telling you.” 

He takes Dean’s hand between both of his, and says, _“Olani hoath ol.”_ It feels even better the second time Dean hears it, and this time, it causes that thrumming sensation to start moving beneath his skin he usually associates with Castiel’s grace. “I love you, Dean Winchester. And if you could indulge my romantic side for just another moment to imagine this, right now, is happening in a time where our choices weren’t already made before we ever laid eyes on each other... would you agree to marry me? For love and not convenience, for passion instead of camaraderie, and because we chose _each other_ instead of our kingdoms? Would you do me the honor of becoming my husband and the king of my heart, body, and soul?”

“Yeah.” He’s so inundated with emotion that it comes out as a hoarse whisper, but he knows Cas heard him because the bright smile on his face puts the millions of stars in the sky to shame a millisecond before Castiel leaps to his feet and sweeps Dean right up and off of his. They’re both laughing breathlessly as Castiel spins him in circle after circle, and the second Castiel plants him back on his feet their arms come around one another in the tightest, warmest, happiest hug of his entire life. They only separate far enough for their lips to come together, and even though they’re both smiling too big for the kiss to really work, it’s enough to seal the deal so to speak.

They’re forehead-to-forehead, both still breathing hard from the exhilaration of _choosing_ to get engaged, from choosing each other, from choosing their happily ever after, and even though the love he has for Cas is brand-new and scary as fuck, it’s not nearly as scary as it felt five minutes ago now that he knows Cas loves him back. So as soon as he can work up his nerve, he says, “I love you, too, Cas.”

Castiel leans back, searching his eyes for the truth. “Truly?” 

“Yeah,” Dean nods, bashful but sure. “I mean, I just figured it out when I was sitting in your lap and I wasn’t going to say anything right away, but I do. I love you.”

Cas lowers his forehead to Dean’s again and breathes in nice and deep. “Nothing has ever felt more wonderful than hearing you say that.”

Dean laughs a little, moving in even closer so that he can lay his head on Castiel’s shoulder. “Sorry I don’t have some fancy-ass foreign way to say it like you do.”

Castiel chuckles quietly, but he sounds completely sincere when he says, “Believe me, Dean. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you or about the way I just felt when you told me you loved me if I could. You are perfect as you are.”

Somewhere along the way, they’ve started dancing again. There’s no footwork this time, just the two of them in each other’s arms with Dean’s head on Castiel’s shoulder as they slowly spin in circles until they’ve both come down from the excitement of their engagement. It’s only then that Castiel draws back and places a gentle kiss on Dean’s lips that turns into a trail of feather-light kisses towards his neck.

It feels sensational. Everything has, all night. The whole meal, their evening together, watching Cas get down on one knee and hearing Cas say he loves him, and when the subtle scrape of Castiel’s facial hair against his skin feels at least as good as all of that in a completely different way, Dean’s more than ready to end the night with a bang. 

“Take me to bed, Cas.”

And without his lips ever leaving Dean’s skin, Castiel swoops him right off of his feet and into his arms, and carries Dean bridal-style through the balcony doors and into his bedroom.


	11. Chapter 11

Castiel’s lips have drifted back up to the side of his face, and Dean feels his breath hot on his ear before Cas nuzzles into it and traces the shell of his ear with his tongue, causing goosebumps to erupt along his skin. His earlobe is caught between Castiel’s teeth, and his fingers dig into the silky fabric on Castiel’s bicep from the surprisingly _hot_ sensation. 

“Hmmm,” Castiel says, pulling away enough to give Dean a blatant up and down. “You look so spectacular tonight that I’m almost reluctant to undress you.”

 _“Almost,”_ Dean repeats, his lips turned up into an amused smile.

“It should be impossible to look better than you do now, but since I haven’t been able to get the image of you gloriously bare and covered in freckles out of my mind all day, I happen to know it’s very, very possible,” Castiel says quietly. 

“You’ve been thinkin’ about me, huh?”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the moment we met.” Castiel’s fingers drift to Dean’s neck, where he pulls free the cravat pin and steps back to place it carefully on Dean’s dresser. “This has to be the first thing to go,” he says, his fingers already working at untying the knot at Dean’s neck, “because I don’t have nearly enough skin to taste with it in the way.”

The way Cas is looking at him makes him desperate to move things along, so he leans in to kiss him in response. It starts off as a soft brush of lips that turns dirty when Castiel latches onto his bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth, immediately sending blood rushing between his legs. Castiel’s teeth scrape along his plump flesh before he frees it, and Dean moves in eagerly for more. Their lips come back together in a hungry kiss that cranks his arousal up to eleven, and the need to feel the heat of Castiel’s bare skin has him skirting his hands from Castiel’s arms down his sides so that he can work on untying his sash. 

Castiel makes a surprised sound against his lips as his hips rock forward the tiniest little bit, and he redoubles his efforts on Dean’s cravat and finally pulls it free from his collar. Dean’s head tilts back automatically, feeling like he can really breathe for the first time since he put the damn thing on, and when Castiel’s fingers unbutton the top few buttons at his collar just so he can seal his mouth to his neck, Dean’s the one who lets out a wordless sound of pleasure.

His jacket is pushed unceremoniously from his shoulders as Castiel’s mouth ravages his neck, then Castiel’s hands are climbing the ladders of his ribs and sliding back down to caress his hips. He does it again, up Dean’s sides and back down to his hips, and this time he makes a muffled sound against Dean’s throat before he moves back up to whisper into his ear. “I love the shape of you. Tiny hips, broad shoulders. It’s so unbearably sexy, Dean, I don’t even have words.”

Dean’s already struggling to catch his breath. Castiel’s hands on him and the increasing sexual tension in the room are enough to stifle any and all coherent response from him, so instead of fumbling for something to say, he slides his hands up Castiel’s chest to pull the knot of his tie loose enough to lift it up and over his head. Because his hands are already there, he sinks his fingers into Castiel’s hair and leans in to bring their lips together again. Both mouths open immediately, and Dean feels his body hum with pleasure when Cas delves inside with a rolling flick of his tongue that turns into a deep, lasting kiss. They both blindly work on buttons: Castiel on Dean’s vest and Dean on the frustratingly tiny ones along Castiel’s silk shirt. Castiel wins first, and he hums victoriously as Dean’s vest slides off of his shoulders to land next to his jacket on the floor.

Dean’s heart thuds when Castiel tugs Dean’s shirt free from his trousers, and the very first hint of large, thick fingers grazing the skin low on his back is enough to have him breaking their kiss with a gasp. 

“If you have another shirt under this, so help you,” Castiel says breathlessly. 

Dean laughs because he has half a mind to drag Castiel’s shirt up and over his head himself when he realizes he’s barely halfway down his chest, but his laughter turns into a quiet whimper when he glances down and sees the golden skin dusted with chest hair being slowly revealed.

His mouth moves to the slit of Castiel’s open shirt like a moth to a flame, and he nudges Castiel’s shirt collar aside with his nose as he travels the defined jut of his collarbone from his shoulder down until his lips become flush with the hollow of his throat. He feels the faint give to his flesh and drags his tongue along it, relishing in the hitch of Castiel’s breath and the taste of his skin. Encouraged both by Castiel’s reaction and his own enjoyment of tasting Castiel’s body one inch at a time, he continues down his chest. He switches it up between trailing his tongue along his skin and leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses as he goes. He stops to explore the subtle rise to his pecs and becomes instantly aware of his cock growing heavier as he traces the proof of Castiel’s firm, muscled body with his tongue. 

There’s a distinct dark freckle just above his nipple, and he presses a chaste kiss to the beauty mark, enthralled and exhilarated when he feels Castiel’s nipple harden beneath his lips. He kisses it next, then hums his pleasure as he learns just how satisfying it is to suck Castiel’s nipple into his mouth and feel the other man respond as if he just shocked him with pleasure.

The strangled cry of his name lights a fire in him, and he explores more freely, selfishly seeking out and filing away exactly what he has to do to make Castiel call his name like that again and again. He swirls his tongue around the areola, licks over it with his tongue flat and wide, then tries again with a pointed tip, flicking at the sensitive nub repeatedly when he learns Castiel makes a choked-off sound of pleasure that way. He oh-so-gently takes Cas’s nipple between his teeth and tugs minutely, almost losing his balance when Castiel grabs him by the hips and suddenly drags Dean against him until the burning hot length of Castiel’s erection comes into direct contact with his own.

One hand is on the back of his head, urging him in for a desperate kiss as they start moving against one another frantically, their cocks bumping and grinding between them as they make out with a searing flurry of lips and tongues. It could be minutes or hours later by the time Dean remembers he needs to finish with the buttons on Castiel’s shirt, but it’s faster going this time, and he’s the first to win the prize of a half naked man standing in front of him when he finally gets Castiel’s shirt over his shoulders and off completely.

He just barely bites back another whimper as his hands greedily travel the firm planes and tight muscles on display in front of him, but his voice sounds almost devout when he says, _“Fuck_. Just look at you. You’re so fucking hot, Cas.”

Castiel’s lips are parted and his eyes are dark, and Dean feels powerful and provocative when Castiel’s broad shoulders heave as Dean’s hands continue exploring the smorgasbord of his lover’s body. Dean’s hyper-aware of his cock straining against his slacks when he drags his fingers through Castiel’s chest hair for the first time, the sensation providing a visceral reminder of the six years Castiel has on him—of how Cas is older, bigger, more _manly_ than he is—and he grinds relentlessly against Castiel’s cock. Castiel’s silky pants against Dean’s pleather ones means they move seamlessly, and when Castiel’s hands slide down to cup his asscheeks, Dean drops his forehead to Castiel’s shoulder as arousal electrifies his nerve endings seemingly all at once.

 _“Oh_ fuck,” Castiel grunts, using Dean’s asscheeks like handles to grind their cocks together just how he wants it. He feels Castiel’s mouth hot on the side of his throat and tilts his head to give him access, cursing under his breath when Castiel seals his lips to his skin and sucks _hard._ Castiel makes a reciprocating noise but doesn’t let up, causing a strange but powerful surge of pleasure/pain that surprises a high-pitched sound from the back of Dean’s throat. Castiel wrenches his mouth away with a panted, “Fuck,” before he squeezes Dean’s ass so hard he’s brought up to the balls of his feet.

 _“Ungh!_ Shit, Cas,” he breathes, overwhelmed with a burning hunger. _“Touch_ me.”

“I—I need—” Castiel stutters before taking in a deep breath and curling his thumbs around Dean’s hips to force him back a step. Dean protests immediately, trying to move back in until their cocks are slotted together like they should be, but Castiel shakes his head. “I need you to stop distracting me for _ten seconds_ so I can get this infuriating shirt off.”

Because the little bit of space between them now drags his gaze to where Castiel’s thick cock is jutting out proudly against what can only be described as tights instead of pants, Dean is so paralyzed with the weight of his desire that Castiel is able to get most of the buttons undone before he remembers he’s actually allowed to touch, and he reaches out to palm Castiel’s erection.

Castiel’s eyes slam closed and he rocks into his hand, sending a wave of desire into Dean so powerful his dick _throbs_ with it. He rubs his palm along Castiel’s length from base to tip, fucking _loving_ how every inch of the rock-hard, blood-hot member feels against his hand.

 _“That—”_ Castiel gasps, covering Dean’s hand with his own and pressing it more firmly to his erection to ride against it with a low, rasping groan before he wraps his thick fingers around Dean’s wrist to stop him. ‘’—is the opposite of not distracting.”

Dean grins, pleased that he’s having such an affect on Cas. “Not my fault you’re so damn sexy I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

“Five seconds, Dean. I’m begging you.”

Because he does look a little frazzled, Dean takes mercy on him and pulls his hand free. “Fine. Five, four—” Castiel’s hands fly between them, scrambling to work on the remaining buttons. “Three—” Castiel’s hands are actually shaking, and there’s still half a dozen buttons left when Dean says, “Two—” and Castiel interrupts him with a growl.

Cas fists his hands on either side of Dean’s shirt and _rips,_ shredding the fabric in two and sending the last straggling buttons skittering onto the floor as he wrests Dean’s shirt off of his body. 

Dean’s stunned stupid, so fucking turned on by the idea of Cas wanting him _so bad_ he couldn’t wait that final second, he damn near comes in his pants as Cas slams their bodies back together. Dean clutches at him, hands grappling along his muscular back for purchase, almost knocked off of his damn feet with how enthusiastically Castiel has pressed their bare chests together. 

“Oh fuck,” Dean gasps. He’s hardly even _breathing_ he’s so fucking hot, but he finally gets his arms around Castiel’s neck and plasters his body against Cas’s just as fervently. 

Castiel captures his lips in a searing kiss, licking so deeply and so passionately into his mouth that Dean bends backwards with the force of it. Castiel’s hands grope his bare back and burn down his spine before they slide right back down to cup his ass. Dean moans wantonly into Castiel’s mouth, tilting his pelvis forward even more, almost pulling the bigger man down to the floor with the desperate need to get Cas the fuck on top of him already.

Castiel’s hands slide down the back of his thighs as he bends at the knee, getting a good grip before he straightens up, and their mouths part as Dean gasps when Castiel lifts him straight up off of the ground like he doesn’t weigh a thing. He wraps his legs around Cas’s waist, unbelievable pleasure rocking him to his very core when he feels Castiel’s cock nudging between his asscheeks, and then Castiel takes half a dozen steps and his back hits the mattress as Castiel’s body covers his. 

He tosses his head back with a guttural groan at the incredible sensation of all that hard muscle laid out heavy and firm on top of him, his head spinning with just how incomprehensibly _good_ it feels. He keeps his legs wrapped securely around Cas as Cas ravages his neck, sliding his hot, wet lips along Dean’s skin as he grinds filthily on top of him. Dean can feel the heat building rapidly within him, feel himself getting unbearably close to his peak already, and all it takes is two big hands squeezing his ass and one more solid thrust of Castiel’s thick cock up against his before he loses the tenuous grip he was struggling to keep on his control. 

_“Ah!_ Cas—Cas I’m gonna—” Nope. Heat rises and burns through him so fast, he doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence before it’s too late. It hits him _hard:_ pleasure so all-consuming that it engulfs him, has his limbs quaking and fingernails digging into Castiel’s skin a split second before he locks up and seems to spill all at once. 

He’s vaguely aware of Cas pushing himself up to his elbows, his burning gaze pinning Dean in place and adding to his already unfathomably intense orgasm as Cas watches him come undone. 

“Good gods, you’re gorgeous,” Cas says. His voice is harsh but his words are soft, and his hands are still fucking groping Dean’s ass as he continues to slowly thrust against him. “I will _gladly_ watch you fall apart for me like this every day for the rest of my life, _en olapireta.”_ Dean’s still breathing hard, still drowning in pleasure from Cas’s gentle grinding drawing out his orgasm when Castiel’s next words make his heart swell. “I love you so.”

He whines in the back of his throat as he lifts his lead-filled limbs to pull Cas in for another kiss. It’s soft and tender unlike the last few, but even after having already reached his orgasm he doesn’t find it any less stirring. Cas’s hands drift back up his body, lovingly skirting his sides and running over his arms and shoulders, finally coming to rest on his face where his thumbs sweep his flushed face. 

He sighs against Castiel’s plush lips, pulling back just enough to say, “Love you, too,” before he opens his mouth and welcomes Castiel back inside with a curl of his tongue. 

His body feels heavy and sated while Cas kisses him for what seems like ages. He enjoys the gentle touches, sweet nothings, and the after-orgasm flood of happy hormones until Castiel’s mouth finally drifts away from his. Cas begins kissing his way down his neck and over to his shoulder, murmuring sweet nothings as he goes. “You’re so beautiful.” Dean closes his eyes and loses himself in the glow inside of him, to the sensation of Cas’s plush lips on his left shoulder, on the right one, and directly down his chest between them. “Flawless.” On the damp, warm tongue that samples his skin, on Cas’s fingers climbing down his ribs one by one, on the rough scrape of stubble on his stomach. 

_That_ feels so unexpectedly good that his eyes pop open. Blue ones flick up to him, stopping his heart in his chest when he gets a glimpse of Cas with his mouth so low on his stomach. Cas sees him looking, and judging by the way his eyes darken, he must know _exactly_ what he’s doing when his open mouth travels hot and wet along the strip of skin just above the waistband of Dean’s slacks. 

Thick fingers curl teasingly under the waistband, and Dean’s already panting for more when Cas says, “Can I take these off?”

Dean nods, but he also huffs a laugh at the contrast of this gentle side of Cas compared to the one who took him into his arms to lay him on the bed. “Didn’t ask so nicely before you ripped my shirt off.”

Castiel’s lips quirk like he’s proud of himself, but he replies, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. It seems you have the unique ability to make me act without thinking after all. I can replace it, or cover the cost of having it mended.” 

“Good luck explaining how it got ripped to the seamstress,” he grins. 

Cas smiles as he starts tugging down Dean’s pants, and Dean lifts his hips to help him out, watching as Cas pulls off his boots before his pants come all the way off. “Since these are already ruined, may I?” Castiel asks, holding up his underwear and gesturing to the mess Dean has left on his stomach and groin. Dean nods again, and Castiel uses the soiled fabric to wipe him off. He feels his heartbeat quicken and his blood warm from the attention, grinning lewdly at the idea of getting off again so soon. 

It isn’t until Cas stands up to remove his own pants and shoes that Dean can see the thick outline of his erection through his tights and realizes just how selfish he’s been. “Shit, Cas, I forgot you were still hard.”

“I’m not complaining. As you can likely tell, I was rather enjoying myself seeing you laid out like that for me,” Cas says, crawling back onto the bed. “I am enchanted by you, Dean. Head to toe.”

Dean laughs gently when Castiel kisses the bottom of his foot as if to make his point. Then, like this morning, Cas starts a trail up the insides of his legs. This time Cas’s warm, plush mouth is open on one leg, and a big, rough hand is on the other as he covers the expanse of skin between his ankle and the inside of his knee, then up further until Dean’s almost squirming with anticipation as his mouth moves closer and closer to his groin. An open-mouth trail blazes along the crease of his leg, inching his way up, up, _up_ as Cas’s hand starts caressing Dean’s sac and rubbing over his balls. He’s not at all surprised to see his cock beginning to thicken again, but he can tell by the sudden fire in Cas’s eyes before he flicks his gaze between his legs that he wasn’t expecting it. 

“Oh, to be 19 again,” Cas says, his breath hot on Dean’s skin. Dean’s cocky smile fades as his jaw goes slack when Castiel’s hand wraps around his fattening length, stroking it carefully in his hand. Thanks to that and the enticing sight of Castiel’s mouth on his skin so close to his cock, it’s only seconds until Dean fills out completely, earning himself another quiet moan of appreciation from Cas. “Gods, that’s arousing,” Castiel breathes, continuing his path up past Dean’s navel with his mouth. “Feeling you get so hard so fast. Knowing you want me again this much.”

“Always want you,” Dean says back, his filter stolen from Castiel’s mouth on his nipple at the same time his forefinger and thumb roll the other between them. “Never—never even knew what it felt like until I met you.”

Castiel lets out a quiet, low little groan that sends vibrations shooting through Dean’s sensitive nipple before he releases it altogether. “I wish there were words to describe what hearing that does to me.” Castiel’s lips continue along his chest and up his neck, finding and exploiting that one spot behind his ear that turns him to putty. His hips rock up into Castiel’s hand, and big fingers squeeze around Dean’s cock while Castiel keeps talking. “Feeling you. So hard for me.” Dean agrees with a hum as he continues rubbing against him as Castiel’s next words are whispered into his ear. “Maybe one day you’ll let me taste you here, too.”

Mental images of Castiel kissing, licking, and mouthing along his cock flash at him one after another, punching the breath out of his lungs as he sees them in his mind’s eye. “P-people _do that?”_ Dean wonders. 

Castiel chuckles, a low, sultry sound that warms his insides, pulling back to place a soft, lingering kiss on Dean’s lips. “People do,” he says between kisses. “And from everything I’ve seen, people seem to enjoy it quite a bit.” Castiel’s lips press firmly against his, kissing him soundly for several long seconds until they’re both breathing hard. “But we don’t have to if it’s not something you think you’ll enjoy giving or receiving.”

_Giving?_

Castiel kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, and all along his jaw while Dean thinks about what Cas just said. Getting up-close and personal with Cas’s dick to the point where he actually gets his mouth on him? Feeling that thick cock getting harder and harder and the smooth, flushed skin beneath his lips? Hearing Castiel making those unbearably sexy little sounds when he gets really turned on? _Provoking_ them, even? All while those blue eyes are trained on him, staring at him like Cas wants to eat him alive? 

“Can I try?” Dean asks. 

“Can you try what?” Cas questions, pulling back to look him in the face.

“I wanna try... doin’ that... to you. If you want.” Cas closes his eyes, breathing hard through his nose, looking exactly like he did when Dean first got his hand on him tonight. Seeing Cas that affected by the mere thought only increases his confidence. He places his hands on Castiel’s naked hips and gives him a little push. “Lie down for me, handsome. It’s your turn now.”

Castiel turns over so that he’s on his back, and as Dean works on getting up onto his hands and knees to shimmy down Castiel’s body, Cas says, “You don’t have to do this if it’s too fast or you feel—”

“I want to,” Dean interrupts. So that he’s not half hanging off the bed, he says, “Can you scoot up so you’re leaning back against the headboard?” Cas does as he asks, and Dean lies down, positioning himself between the vee of Castiel’s legs with his hands on Castiel’s hips and his face only inches away from Castiel’s fully hard cock. He looks at it more closely than he’s had the chance to so far, really appreciating just how thick he is, how smooth his skin looks, how much _bigger_ Cas is than himself. For reasons he doesn’t even understand, the confirmation of Castiel’s size and girth has his own cock throbbing with arousal and he’s ready to dive in. 

“Anything off limits, here?” Dean asks. “I don’t wanna do it wrong.”

“Uhm,” Castiel replies, sounding breathless already. “Just, uhm, make sure to keep your teeth away, and I honestly can’t imagine anything going wrong.”

Nerves start to kick in now that he’s about to actually start, so he flicks his eyes back up to Cas. “You’ll tell me if I do something wrong or weird or something? I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“As far as I’m concerned, there is no wrong in this bed, _en olapireta._ Only two people who love each other and want to learn how to make each other feel good,” Cas says softly. “That said, if you do something I don’t like, I will tell you. But please don’t be nervous. Believe me, you are already more arousing just being between my legs than anything else I can imagine.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, feeling a little proud of that.

“You have the most plush, luscious lips I’ve ever seen. And just the _idea_ of them... there...” He stops and bites down on his lower lip, letting the fire in his eyes finish the sentence for him.

Dean nods, more determined than ever to make this good for Cas. He takes Castiel’s cock into his hand to steady it, then looks up at Cas, and says, “So I guess I’m just gonna...” before he licks his lips and places a chaste kiss to the base of Castiel’s cock. He looks up at Cas again, checking for a reaction, and Cas nods his head eagerly. 

Figuring that means he’s on the right track, he lets his lips drift along Castiel’s erection. He kisses all the way around it, moving his lips up little by little as he gets familiar with the sensation of Castiel’s over-warm, silky-smooth skin beneath his lips, and the heavy, musky scent surrounding him and making his head spin. He wasn’t sure if he would enjoy this, but so far, it’s actually pretty... nice. Because it’s not just any dick in his mouth, it’s Castiel’s. It’s all proof of Castiel’s attraction to him: Castiel’s hard length sliding through his palm, the scent of Castiel’s arousal in his nostrils, and Castiel’s heartbeat thumping beneath his skin all because of what _Dean’s_ doing with his mouth.

The room is silent save for the flickering of the candles, and it makes it easy for him to hear how Castiel’s breathing comes out faster and harsher the closer he gets to the head of his cock. He sets that as his destination, but Castiel makes a surprised-sounding noise along the way that causes a detour the first time Dean’s mouth stumbles upon the tiny spot where the shaft meets the head. When he does it a second time, Castiel nearly leaps off the bed, and Dean looks up again to see Castiel’s mouth hanging open and his face flushed all the way down his neck to his chest. 

“Feel good?” Dean wonders.

 _“A-amazing,”_ Cas stutters.

Emboldened, he goes right back to that little spot. He opens his mouth wider and lets his tongue flick against it, earning himself another encouraging sound from Cas that means he does it over and over. He drags his hand up there, too, rubbing his thumb over that one spot as he keeps his mouth traveling up to the tip, his own cock almost unbearably hard again when he sees the clear fluid seeping out of the tip of Castiel’s cock. He mouths around the head, avoiding the small pool of fluid and the burning curiosity he feels to sample it, to learn exactly how Cas tastes when he’s so horny he actually _leaks_ for him. 

He licks his lips automatically, torn between the desire to know and the fear of doing something Castiel might think is weird. He remembers Cas saying there’s no _wrong_ here, though, so although there is still some lingering uncertainty, he purposely drags the pad of his thumb along Castiel’s slit to feel the clear fluid on his skin. Castiel curses under his breath and his hips stutter forward, so Dean does it again and again, using Castiel’s precum to smooth the way as he changes the pressure from feather-light to hard enough that the supple flesh compresses beneath his thumb. 

When he lowers his mouth to suck on that little spot that Cas liked so much before while he continues thumbing over his slit, Castiel starts making these choked-off, wordless little sounds. He makes eye contact with his lips sealed to Castiel’s cock, and Castiel actually whimpers. _“Gods,_ Dean. You look _—ugh—_ unbelievable. It feels... s-so good already.”

Knowing that he’s affecting Castiel to the extent that he’s struggling to string words together has him feeling brazen and confident enough to finally give into the urge to smear his thumb through Cas’s precum and pop it into his mouth to taste it. 

_“Fuck,”_ Castiel curses, but Dean’s too focused on the slightly bitter but not altogether bad taste of _Castiel_ on his tongue. The fact that this came out of Cas’s dick because Cas is so turned on by him makes it taste even better in a forbidden, sexy kind of way, causing him to enjoy the unique taste more than he thought he might.

He looks up at Cas, folding his lips down into a tiny shrug, then opens his mouth and licks a wide stripe directly over the head of Castiel’s cock.

 _“A-ah!”_ Castiel gasps. “Oh gods.”

He’s pretty sure he knows, but he asks, “Good or bad?”

“So, _so_ good,” Cas breathes. “Incredible.”

“Don’t taste all that bad either,” Dean says, purposely licking his lips. With Castiel’s eyes laser-focused on his mouth, he parts his lips and places a wet kiss to the tip of his cock, watching eagerly when Castiel’s jaw drops open and his fingers clench in the sheets. He keeps his mouth sealed over the head and presses his tongue against the shallow slit, tasting it the moment additional precum oozes out onto the flat of his tongue. “Mmmm.” He licks his lips, then presses his lips to the tip again, slowly moving down around the head to circle it with a series of wet kisses that has Castiel making some of the most delicious sounds he’s ever heard.

He feasts on them like a man starving, watching Castiel eagerly for clues about what he likes and what he doesn’t, swallowing down every needy little moan he can wring out of him. He learns quickly that a lot of pressure directly to the tip of Castiel’s cock has him making sounds that border on painful, and lessening it actually makes the bigger man _tremble._ He discovers matching the movement of his wrist to the kisses he places on Castiel’s cock has Castiel’s breath coming out in harsh pants, and the wetter his spit gets Castiel’s shaft, the easier it is to fist and mouth at him. 

Encouraged by every little sound he pulls from Cas, Dean wraps his lips around the head of Castiel’s cock and sucks the tip into his mouth. _“Fuck!_ Fuck, _yes._ Just like that, Dean,” Castiel urges him. Keen to follow his direction and hear Castiel say his name the same way again, he keeps his lips sealed around him and introduces his tongue, gently massaging the tip of his cock with slow, teasing circles. 

_“Oh!_ Oh, Dean, that f-feels like H-Heaven,” Castiel breathes. Dean hums happily when Castiel’s big hand reaches out to cup his face. He lets his eyes slip closed, soothed beyond measure by Castiel’s simple touch and the loving brush of his thumb along his cheek. “You’re doing s-so good, my love. So good for me.” 

Joy warms his chest, mixing with pride and desire to form a deep sense of satisfaction from knowing that Cas thinks he’s doing a good job, that he’s making Cas feel good, that _Cas_ thinks _he’s_ good. He uses his hand to start pumping the thick length of Castiel’s cock while his mouth is wrapped around it, allowing Cas’s palm to support some of the weight of his head as he tongues at his slit. His stroking picks up a rhythm, his fingers sliding along velvet-smooth skin up and down, up and down, when suddenly, the faintest little bit of pressure on his face urges his mouth to sink down further onto Castiel’s cock.

His eyebrows draw together in confusion, but he goes with it, hearing Cas cursing breathlessly as he slides down a little bit further. “If you had _any_ idea how... how _breathtaking_ you look right now. I couldn’t have dreamed up anything sexier than you, than this. Gods Dean, I love you so much.”

Dean hums with Cas’s cock in his mouth, nodding as much as he can, trying to signal that he loves Cas, too. “I just—I’m going to show you how I want you to move, okay?” Dean hums again, and lets his neck relax slightly, allowing Cas to take complete control of his movements. 

Cas guides Dean’s spit-slick lips to the very tip of his cock, then gently eases him down so deep that the head of Cas’s cock nudges the back of his soft palate. He almost gags, but manages to keep it together when Cas releases the pressure just in time and pulls him back to the top before he nudges him right back down. 

_“Fuck,”_ Castiel curses, sounding absolutely _wrecked._ “Ff-uck, Dean, that’s so, s-so...” He stops mid-word, moaning low and dirty, and Dean _has_ to look up. He gets an eyeful of the man he loves with his head tilted back and his mouth hanging open with one hand buried in his own hair. Cas is the personification of desire, of carnal pleasure, of his own erotic paradise, and Dean’s so fucking hot just _looking at him_ that he groans, too.

He drags the circle of his lips back to the top of Castiel’s length, leaving only the head in his mouth while he gently teases Castiel’s slit with his tongue again. _“Oh.”_ Castiel’s fingers push up towards the back of his head and press down, and Dean follows the silent request, taking his thick cock back into his mouth. “Fuck. _Fuck,_ Dean." Castiel’s chin hits his chest, and they lock eyes as Dean _sucks_ as he pulls all the way back up with his fist chasing his lips, drawing a gritty, delicious-sounding moan from Cas. Now having picked up on the rhythm Cas likes, he swallows down Cas’s cock, watching Castiel watch him with his mouth hanging open and his shoulders _heaving_ as inch by inch of his thick cock disappears between his spit-slick lips. The second Cas can catch his breath, he’s stuttering, “Dean—I—I’m—”

He can feel Castiel’s cock throb in his hand, feels his rock-hard shaft suddenly harden impossibly further while Castiel’s whole body tightens, but it’s the tingling sensation suddenly seeping beneath his skin that has him figuring out what’s about to happen about a split second before it actually does.

His hand tightens in his shock where it’s wrapped around Castiel’s cock, and _just_ as he pulls his mouth free, thick, milky-white cum erupts out of Castiel’s cock. The first spurt lands hot and slimy across his cheek, Castiel makes the only high-pitched sound he’s heard so far, and the second rope of cum catches him square on the chin. His heart stops and his face positively _flames_ with embarrassment, but when Cas reaches for his own cock to stroke himself through his orgasm with his glowing blue eyes glued to the place his cum is slowly sliding down Dean’s face, desire spikes and overpowers any embarrassment he was previously feeling.

“I—I’m sorry,” Cas gasps. “I couldn’t—it was too fast—and—sweet _fuck,_ you look exquisite right now, Dean. So fucking perfect, my gods.”

That same mix of pride and joy from before surges through him, and he realizes he doesn’t mind taking a load to the face if Cas gets off on it the way he’s seeming to. It actually makes it a little hotter knowing that Cas thinks he looks so good with cum on his face. He wonders how much Cas’s actual cum tastes like the precum that was seeping out of him earlier, and points his tongue to bring it to the corner of his month, tasting a stray drop of cum that’s dripped down his cheek. 

Castiel exhales shakily and says, “You are going to be the death of me, my prince.”

Dean smacks his mouth as he tastes the cum, noting, “It’s not all that bad. Maybe next time you can come directly into my mouth instead of all over my face.”

Castiel’s breath catches again, and he says, “You—” as he shakes his head fondly. 

“Are awesome?” Dean finishes for him, using the bed sheets to wipe his face clean.

“You are,” Castiel agrees, still breathing hard, but beckoning for Dean to come closer. “Why don’t you come up here on my lap again and I’ll show you just how awesome I think you are?”

He enjoyed sitting in Cas’s lap outside, so although it’s gonna be a little bit different considering they’re both naked now, he’s still willing to give it a shot. He gets up to his knees with his cock still rock-hard from getting to see Cas looking so sinful as he came, and he doesn’t miss the way Cas eyes it as it bobs while he tries to figure out how to get in Cas’s lap. 

“Straddle me,” Castiel suggests. Dean’s heart is already racing when Cas gets his hands on his hips and pulls him closer, helping him to settle down gently on top of him. Dean’s knees frame Castiel’s hips, his ass fits comfortably in the vee of Cas’s legs, and his hands naturally land on Castiel’s shoulders. Cas is looking him up and down, from where he fits so perfectly in Castiel’s lap, to where Dean’s cock is jutting out proudly between them, up and over his chest to finally land on his face. “My gods, Dean. You’re flawless. Perfect in every way, and I love you so.”

His heart swells, and he murmurs, “Love you,” as he leans in to capture Castiel’s mouth in what turns out to be a long, passionate kiss. 

Castiel’s tongue sweeps past his lips and into his mouth, and Dean groans as he really melts against Castiel’s strong chest. Cas is an incredibly sensual kisser, and Dean finds himself going lax against him, allowing Cas to change it up from teasing his tongue with his own, nipping at his lips, and flicking his tongue across Dean’s so smoothly Dean can hardly keep up with the flood of arousal rushing through his body.

He’s so into it he doesn’t hear Cas find or open the lube, but a slick palm sliding down over his cock has him gasping into Castiel’s mouth and unintentionally rocking up into his fist. His own arousal has been simmering under the surface for so long while he concentrated on Cas he didn’t realize just how much it’s been building until now, until his body takes over immediately and he’s whimpering against Castiel’s lips and thrusting up into his fist as Cas stokes him. 

“Yes, Dean. Just like that,” Cas urges, sliding his lips down his face to roam along his jaw. “Take what you need from me, my love. You were so good, so beautiful, so _perfect_ for me, and now I want to make you feel just as good.”

Cas’s free hand slips between his legs, fondling his balls and causing additional desire to race through him. _“Shit_ , Cas. It does. It feels... so good.”

“You look sensational in candlelight,” Cas tells him, kissing his way back up to his ear. “I want to make love to you like this someday.” Dean’s jaw drops as the mental picture takes shape in his mind. “Watching you move on top of me, taking me inside of you again and again with these unbearably sexy hips of yours in my hands, stroking your cock hard and straining between us.” 

He’s never heard anybody say anything like that out loud before, and it lights a fucking fire in him, the pictures in his mind becoming clearer and clearer from every detail that Cas adds. _“C-Cas,”_ Dean chokes out. 

“Would you like that?” 

_Holy fuck_ does Cas have a voice made for dirty talk. All low and raspy, and combined with his hands all over him, his breath hot on his ear, and the words he’s actually saying, Dean feels like there’s lava running through his veins. “I-I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’ll try. With you. For you.”

“Oh, Dean,” Cas says softly, obviously pleased by his willingness. “I want that. I want to be as close to you as humanly possible, _be one_ with you, and I want you just like this, breathing hard and pink-cheeked, flushed from head to toe with pleasure. And then I want to slip inside of you, as easy as breathing, and share myself with you in ways I’ll never share with another.”

Dean moans his agreement, feeling unbearably hot all over from imagining exactly what it might feel like to have Cas deep inside of him, their bodies as connected as they can possibly be, giving and taking pleasure from one another until they both reach euphoria together.

He comes back to himself when a lube-slick finger moves back, sliding smoothly along the strip of skin between his balls and his ass, and Dean makes an embarrassing, choked-off, high-pitched sound of pure bliss as arousal unlike anything he’s ever felt before slams into him. 

Cas rubs his thick fingers along that sensitive strip of skin, matching the back and forth rhythm of the fist still pumping his cock. Dean throws his head back with his eyes squeezed closed, completely lost in the thrill of chasing his pleasure and the delicious feeling of his impending orgasm mounting and mounting with every thrust. Cas’s mouth is hot and open on his neck, blazing down his chest as the coil of pleasure low in his belly gets tighter and tighter.

 _“Cas,”_ he whispers again, his voice hoarse and broken. 

“Dean,” Castiel echoes, not even missing a beat. “My beautiful Dean. So enticing. So arousing. I want—I want to—Tell me if this is okay.”

His core tightens when one of Castiel’s thick digits inches along his perineum until it reaches his asshole. His fingers dig into Castiel’s shoulders from the alien sensation of something touching him _there,_ but the quiet, soothing sound of Cas shushing him combined with Cas’s fist still wet and warm wrapped around his cock eases some of the fear of the unknown. Cas’s finger circles his opening, stimulating skin that’s _much_ more sensitive than he ever noticed before this, and as additional pleasure starts to seep into him, his muscles slowly begin to relax under Castiel’s gentle ministrations.

 _“Fuck,_ just look at you giving into it, being so good for me.” Castiel’s words are so filled with awe they’re almost reverent, and Dean smiles weakly as he struggles to catch his breath from the onslaught of passion wracking his body. “Do you like this?” Castiel asks, rubbing around his rim once more.

Dean nods, slack jawed as tiny shocks seem to light up his nerve endings and add to the heat pooling at the base of his cock. The more he gets used to it, the more of it he wants, and his body instinctively grinds down on Cas’s fingers to get a more substantial touch. He feels the tip of a blunt finger press against his opening, the lube and Dean’s own rocking hips slicking the way for it to slip inside of him the tiniest little bit, and just the _idea_ of Cas being inside of him in any capacity is enough to have him calling out. 

_“Dean,”_ Castiel groans. _“Gods.”_ His voice drops to a whisper, and he asks, “C-Can I—keep going—?”

Castiel’s voice is shaking, whether from nerves or excitement or the same kind of life-changing, awakening arousal Dean’s currently experiencing, he doesn’t know. He does know that he wants more of how this feels, though, so he nods frantically before leaning in and dropping his forehead to Castiel’s shoulder. It’s a damn good thing, too, because the erotic sensation of Castiel’s thick finger slowly sinking inside of him inch by inch punches the air right out of his lungs. 

Once it seems to be in as far as it will go, they both stay completely still, two sets of shoulders heaving as they try to catch their breath and get used to what they’re feeling. Then Castiel’s big hand squeezes around the head of his cock, and Dean thrusts up into it before rocking back onto his finger without thinking. Feeling the dual sensations at the same time is indescribable. It seems to be lighting him up from the inside out all at once, pleasure reverberating from his core directly to his cock like a two-way lightning bolt, and he’s actually _shaking_ with the sheer magnitude of overwhelming pleasure when Cas’s mouth closes around his nipple and Dean suddenly comes like a goddamn rocket. 

A sound of surprise escapes Castiel when the first rope of watery cum falls over his fist, but he keeps pumping Dean’s cock while Dean shudders his way through his orgasm. Dean spills again and again, hot and sticky all over both of their stomachs, his whole body clenching around the finger still buried deep inside of him as Cas works him through the rest of his orgasm with gentle, tender strokes. Cas’s breaths are coming out hard, too, but he comforts Dean with chaste kisses to his temple and whispered words of how good he is and how much he loves him, and Dean’s never felt so good in his damned life as he feels when he collapses against Castiel entirely. 

He has no idea how long it’s been since he stopped coming when Cas finally pulls his finger out, but he does know he’s nowhere close to being ready to move anytime soon. If it’s possible, he melts against Cas more completely when his strong arms come around him, breathing in the heavy scent of sex and sweat, but even more appealing than that, the familiar scent of the man he loves. He tucks his nose into the crook of Cas’s neck and makes a quiet sound of contentment when Cas starts stroking down his spine. 

They sit there like that for so long that Dean’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to move his legs when it’s actually time to try to get up, but he’s so fucking _sated,_ body, mind, and soul, that he doesn’t even entertain the idea of moving. 

“Dean?” Castiel asks suddenly. 

“Mmmm?”

“My body is telling me we’re nearing the end of my refractory period,” Cas discloses. Dean snorts a laugh, and Cas adds, “So unless you’re willing to try for three orgasms tonight, I’m afraid you’re going to have to move your very naked, very tempting little backside off of my lap.”

“But I don’t wanna,” Dean whines. 

Castiel laughs quietly and drops another kiss into his hair. “I’ll clean us both up, and then you can curl up in my arms until morning if you want.”

Because he knows it’s inevitable _and_ because that sounds pretty damn good, he says, “‘Kay,” even though he doesn’t really want to. He wrinkles his nose at the drying, crusty mess between them when he pulls away, then flops heavily onto his back next to Cas. Castiel laughs again, swooping in to give him a quick kiss, then walking gloriously naked to the bathroom. 

He comes back out a few minutes later with a cloth and a glass of water. He wipes Dean down gently, then hands him the water, explaining, “We both drank quite a bit of wine, I don’t want you to be dehydrated and feel hungover tomorrow.”

Cas taking care of him like this makes his insides warm, so he drinks down the glass of water even though he isn’t particularly thirsty at the moment, and places it on the nightstand next to him. Cas climbs back into bed next to him, still completely naked, and Dean doesn’t hesitate at all before he shimmies forward to plaster himself to Castiel’s side.

Castiel wraps his arm around him and holds him nice and close. His face is resting in Dean’s hair when he says, “It’s a good thing we’re getting married the day after next, because I have to admit, I don’t care for sleeping naked.”

“What do you usually sleep in?” Dean wonders.

“Pajama pants,” Cas says. “The same kind of material as my boxers, but pants. They’re heavenly.”

“I might have to steal a pair.”

“As if they’d ever stay up on your tiny frame,” Castiel laughs quietly. “But not to worry, my prince, I’ll have all of the pajamas in the realm sent to us if they’ll make you happy.”

“You make me happy,” Dean breathes.

“And you, me,” Castiel echoes. “Though honestly, I’m not sure how you could ever top the happiness I felt when you agreed to marry me. That was undoubtedly the happiest moment of my life.”

“Mine, too.” Even reliving the memory has butterflies coming alive in his stomach. “I’m never gonna forget that.”

“I didn’t ruin it... afterwards... did I?”

Dean grimaces even though he knows Cas can’t see his face. “Ruin it how?”

“I get so caught up in the moment with you,” Castiel says quietly, sounding almost ashamed by the admission. “I told you from the beginning that I wouldn’t rush you, and yet tonight... well, I quite literally tore your clothes off, and I asked you to do several things we’ve never done before, all without even talking about them first. I made assumptions about our sex life before ever bringing it up, and honestly, as much as I enjoyed myself, now that I think about it... my behavior was far less than what you should accept from me, Dean. I’m sorry I asked for so much so fast when I shouldn’t have.”

“Cas, come on,” Dean chuckles. “I thought we trusted each other?”

“I do trust you,” Cas replies.

“Then you need to trust that I’ll say no if I want to, the same way I trust you’d stop if I asked you to.”

“You’re a very smart man,” Castiel responds. “I would stop. Anytime. Even when I do lose my head and tear your shirt off sometimes.”

“Believe me, I am _not_ complaining about that. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen _in my life.”_ Castiel laughs quietly, sounding almost proud of himself. “Obviously I haven’t seen a lot, and I don’t really know what you’re talking about a lot of the time when it comes to sex stuff,” he admits, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it. Just means I might need you to explain it to me.”

“I’m no expert on sex or sexual acts,” Castiel says quickly. “But I’m happy to try to answer any questions you might have.”

“And you obviously don’t mind if I need a little bit of direction,” Dean says, thinking about how Cas helped him figure out how to take his cock into his mouth. 

Castiel kisses the top of his head, and he can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I never would have predicted this, but you actually follow directions quite well.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Got a whole kingdom full of people who’d argue with you about that.”

“Yes, but they don’t know you like _I_ know you. Perhaps they were just lacking the proper motivation.”

“Who could’ve guessed what I’d be willing to do to suck the right dick,” Dean quips, and a low laugh bursts out of Cas.

“I really do love you, you know,” Castiel says, making him smile nice and wide. “I never imagined I’d fall for somebody quite like you, but I already can’t imagine my life without you and the particular way you always seem to make me laugh.”

Dean presses a kiss to his chest. “Me neither, Cas. I’m glad I get to figure out all this shit with you by my side.”

“I will always be by your side,” Castiel promises. “And if I have anything to say about it, I’ll never spend another night without you in my arms just like this.”

“You feel better now, then?” Dean checks. “You’re not worried about ruining your proposal with the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had anymore?”

“I feel much better,” Castiel answers. “And I’m glad you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.”

 _“Twice_ as much as you did, if you want to get into specifics,” Dean teases.

“I know what you’re saying, but I still find that hard to believe. I’m not sure you can understand just how gorgeous you looked straddling me.”

Dean nuzzles into his chest. “Could tell you thought so.”

“Getting to look at you like that, seeing your face and all of your body, feeling you reel me in like a fish on a hook with every bat of your eyelashes... I was spellbound by you, Dean. Hanging off of your every breath and cherishing every moment I was able to touch somebody as flawless as you are.”

Dean’s face is undeniably warm, and he’s never felt so loved as he does now with Cas’s arms around him, his lips in his hair, and his words like music in his ears. “Leave it to you to make sex sound like poetry.”

“Let’s blame the wine,” Castiel whispers conspiratorially. 

Dean tips his head up to kiss him beneath his chin, his lips curving against the subtle scratch of his scruff. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Castiel replies, dipping his head until Dean can stretch up to reach his lips for a short but soft kiss. “Have sweet dreams tonight, _en olapireta._ Today was only the beginning of our happily ever after.”

With Castiel’s arms wound so perfectly around him and the steady sound of his heart beating beneath his ear, Dean drifts off to sleep, foolishly believing those words with every part of him.


	12. Chapter 12

Unlike the night before, Dean sleeps like the dead. He wakes up with big, gentle fingers stroking between his shoulder blades, one leg sprawled over Cas, and his head cradled on Cas’s shoulder. 

“Good morning, my love,” Cas greets him. 

He repositions, snuggling in more comfortably, and says, “Morning.”

“You slept well, I’m assuming?”

Waking up with Cas, to a warm, naked body pressed so snugly to his own is definitely something he’s looking forward to getting used to. He’s still not much of a morning person, though, and if he has a choice, he’d prefer to wake up slowly, laze around for a little bit, and _then_ get up to start his day and chat. 

So he answers with, “Mmhmm,” instead of words. 

“Good. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so that I didn’t disturb you, but now I’m afraid I need to empty my bladder before it bursts,” Cas says. Dean huffs a laugh through his nose, and reluctantly rolls over onto his stomach. Castiel hums low in his throat, and Dean jolts when a large hand is suddenly cupping his backside. “Give me a minute, and then join me in the shower?”

Now _that_ is worth waking up for. “Yeah.”

Though his eyes want to close again, he keeps them open for his first glimpse of Cas walking around the bed and to the bathroom, noting with interest how just the five-second look at his naked body hardens his usual morning erection into something much more substantial. The sensation of his soft sheets beneath him as he fills out is tempting, but nothing compared to what he knows Cas is going to make him feel in the shower. 

He lets his mind wander to memories of those big hands wrapped around him and Castiel’s gentle fingers playing him like some kind of musical instrument, and so by the time he hears the shower start, he’s more than ready to join Cas in the shower. 

It turns out having access to every inch of Castiel’s naked body wet and warm is every bit as nice as it sounds, and somehow, a morning hand job in the shower _from_ Cas is about a million times better than a morning hand job in the shower _thinking_ about Cas. He can’t imagine a better way to start the day, and knowing that he and Cas are going to get married tomorrow and that this could be the new normal certainly has a spring in his step by the time he’s getting dressed.

Once again, Cas has nothing to change into, so while Dean throws on something old and comfortable, Cas redresses in his clothes from the night before. Dean walks him down to his bedroom so he doesn’t have to do the walk of shame alone, then he heads to the dining room to have some coffee while he waits for Cas to join him for breakfast. There’s no sign of Gabriel yet, so he waves Ellen away and pours his own coffee, then lingers over thoughts of last night while he waits for the caffeine to hit his system.

He’s just finished his first cup when Jo comes crashing into the room, breathing hard, just managing to pant out two words that turn the whole day on its head. “Your—dad.” His stomach sinks like a stone. “He’s back. Riding onto—the castle grounds. Saw the carriage—from the balcony—ran as fast as I could.”

Ellen swoops into the room and announces, “You keep that boy of yours in his room until I tell you differently, you hear? Bobby and Rufus will help if you need them. Now go!”

He only has time to spare a quick but vehement, “Thank you,” before he’s running back down the hallway to warn Cas.

“And change your clothes before The King sees you like that and has a hernia!” Jo calls after him. 

That’s not a bad idea, but not one he has the mental capacity to deal with now that he knows he could literally only be seconds away from losing everything he’s ever wanted. He knew his dad was going to come home today, and still, the fear that’s risen up inside of him now that the moment is actually here is all-consuming. He knocks on Cas’s door with a shaking hand, but doesn’t even wait for Cas to give him the go ahead before he bursts in. Cas is only half dressed, and he looks _scandalized_ by the idea of Dean being there at all for a split second before he realizes something is off.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, abandoning his closet in favor of approaching Dean.

“My dad. He’s back. They’re about to pull into the castle grounds. Cas, he’s never going to let us get married. He’s not gonna let me see you anymore. This could be—”

Castiel’s hands come up to rest on either side of his face. Just his touch is grounding enough to have a shaky but cleansing breath escape him. “Breathe, my love,” Castiel tells him. Cas waits for him to take one more deep breath, and then he kisses his forehead. “We’ll figure something out.”

He nods, swallows down the lump of fear in his throat, and says, “I dunno what’s going on, but Ellen said to keep you in your room.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Cas says. 

“Hide you in your room?” he repeats incredulously. “That’s never gonna work, Cas! The first thing my dad’s gonna do when he comes back here is ask to meet you to check that I wasn’t a dick while he was gone.”

“It will work for now. We only have to make it through the day, right? Then tomorrow we can get married and there’s nothing he’ll be able to do about it then.”

“That’s an entire day from now,” Dean exclaims. “He could come in here and kick you out and I’d—I’d never know in time because he’d never tell me,” he realizes, his fear increasing tenfold. “Cas,” he croaks. “If I leave this room I might never—I might never see you again.”

Castiel’s hands run down his sides soothingly, like he’s trying to calm a wild animal or something. “That will _never_ happen.”

Dean shakes his head though, because he knows Cas _thinks_ he knows, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know how mean his dad can get, how the people in this castle do whatever he says without question, and how his dad is _never_ going to allow this marriage to continue when he sees who Cas really is. “You don’t get it. There’s no way—”

“I need you to trust me,” Castiel implores him. “The only way I am leaving this castle is with you by my side, and there is _nothing_ anybody can do about that. I promise you, _en olapireta.”_

He wants to believe him, he does. But Cas doesn’t know his dad the way he does. He doesn’t know how far The King is willing to go in order to ensure a Winchester baby comes out of this marriage. “But—”

In the very next breath, Castiel covers his mouth with a searing kiss. He isn’t expecting it _at all,_ but considering he’s all too aware that this could very well be the last time he kisses Cas in gods know how long, he gives himself over to it as if they haven't already spent most of their time awake this morning with their lips sealed together. The momentum behind Castiel’s firm kiss forces him back a step, and then another, and before he even realizes that this is really happening, Cas has him pressed against the door with his half naked body molded against Dean’s. 

Their kiss is already fiery and desperate, Castiel’s hands are digging into his hips with a bruising pressure, and even knowing they don’t have the time or the luxury to do anything but kiss, Dean tilts his hips away from the door and tries to rub against him. Castiel’s hands slide from his hips to his ass, eliciting dual sounds of pleasure from both of them when he uses his grip to bring their groins together. Cas’s hands have a hell of a grip on his ass, and when he squeezes, pleasure wracks him. Dean’s head falls back against the door with a heavy _thud,_ and Castiel shushes him, his breath hot on Dean’s ear as he starts whispering sweet nothings.

“I love you,” Castiel says. “And I’m not leaving here without you. I’m going to marry you tomorrow and fall asleep with you in my arms, and it’s going to be the happiest day of my life.” Cas leans in to catch his lips in another, more tender kiss. “But for now, you should go greet your father.”

Cas’s words are saying one thing, but as soon as he stops talking, his mouth starts telling a very different story as his lips begin burning a trail down the column of his throat. Dean hums his agreement as he winds his hands into Castiel’s hair to keep him in place, breathing heavily while Cas continues to ravage his neck and squeeze his ass. Dean drags one hand out of Castiel’s hair, over his bare chest and past his belly button. He can feel Castiel’s abdominal muscles jump beneath his touch, and that’s enough to encourage him to keep going, slipping further down and rubbing his hand over Castiel’s straining erection.

Castiel muffles his groan against Dean’s neck, and he can literally _feel_ Castiel’s cock getting harder in his hand. Knowing Cas is getting hard for him again already suddenly has him a confusing mix of scared and so fucking turned on his hand is _shaking_ when he rips it away to plunge it into the front of Castiel’s pants.

Cas is every bit as hard as he is, and feeling him hard as stone covered by such soft, smooth skin for a second time this morning has his mouth hanging open and short, needy breaths escaping him. This is nothing like it was in the shower though, this isn’t slow and tender and exploratory, it’s fast and hard and desperate because neither one of them really knows when or if they’ll ever get to do this again.

His breath hitches with the weight of the reminder, and it only increases how badly he needs this, how badly he needs _Cas._ He wraps his hand around Cas the best he can beneath his clothes and pumps his cock in a loose fist, gasping when Castiel’s teeth scrape along his neck and he thrusts into Dean’s hand.

“Like that, Cas?” Dean whispers, remembering perfectly well the way he liked it in the shower not too long ago. 

“S-so good, but D-Dean—”

Dean tightens his grip and drags his fist up and over Castiel’s leaking head, smearing what fluid there is between his palm and Castiel’s length, and Castiel stops to muffle another sound of pleasure against his skin.

“Fuck, you’re—you’re so hard and wet...” The slick fluid on his fingertips reminds him of how much he enjoyed the taste of it last night, and he’s ready and willing to do it again now while he still can. “I want you in my mouth.”

Castiel groans low and dirty as Dean starts working on Castiel’s belt buckle one handed. He whines in protest when Castiel’s fingers suddenly close around his wrist, stopping him right when he was getting to the good part. Cas shushes him before he can complain, but now he notices that Cas’s body has gone eerily still, the hand remaining on his ass has frozen, and Dean realizes why when the sound of Jo’s voice can _just_ be heard through the door.

“Both Prince Dean and Princess Castielle are out with Baby, Your Majesty, but I’ll wave him down as soon as I see him to let him know of your arrival. I know they haven’t eaten breakfast yet—”

“Breakfast will wait. I want Dean in my office—”

There’s a sound of a throat clearing, and Dean winces when he hears his mom’s voice. “John.” Feeling suddenly _incredibly_ dirty (in a bad way) for having his hand down Castiel’s pants with his mom’s voice ringing in his ears, he pulls his hand free and rests it on Castiel’s hip, trying not to think about how quickly his mom just killed his boner.

“Fine,” his dad relents, and _that’s_ enough to have his jaw dropping for entirely non-sexy reasons. “After a quick breakfast, I want him in my office. And ensure the King _and_ The Princess of the Angels are made as comfortable as possible in their rooms.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jo replies. 

He and Castiel don’t even breathe until it seems the coast is clear, and just as he tries to decide if he should snake his hand back down Castiel’s pants or not, they both damn near jump out of their skin when there’s a knock on the door he’s still pressed against.

The handle turns as if Jo is going to come in, and before they can move out of the way, she tries to push it open and instead walks into the door.

“Ow. What the—” Then she lowers her voice into a whisper and says, “Dean?”

Dean looks at Cas, who looks like he’s about to back away, and holds him firmly in place by his belt buckle. “Kinda busy here, Jo,” he says back quietly.

“What—oh, _seriously!?”_ she exclaims, clearly disgusted. “I thought you were going to change before your dad saw you!”

“I got a little distracted.”

He can hear her huff of frustration even through the door. “We’re putting our asses on the line for you—”

“And I’m just taking a few minutes to appreciate it,” Dean finishes. “Gimme, what, five more minutes, Cas?” he teases.

Cas glares at him and puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders to force himself back a step. “I apologize, Jo. He’s coming.”

“I’m actually not now, thanks to her,” Dean mumbles, and Castiel can’t quite keep a straight face now that he leans in to kiss him once more. 

“Go, my love. But perhaps if you can get away—”

“I’ll come back later. Tonight if I can’t before then,” Dean promises. Then, more firmly, “No matter what—”

“I will not leave this room,” Castiel repeats. “And I’m not leaving you, either. This will work.”

Dean still has his doubts, but if Cas doesn’t, he’s not going to bring him down now that he knows they’re likely to be separated for the rest of the day. “I love you,” he whispers. He kisses Cas once more, as passionate as a kiss can be with your mouth closed, and then he’s reluctantly opening the door a crack and slipping out. 

Jo’s standing there with her arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face, but Dean knows _just_ how to win her over. “He’s _such_ a good kisser,” he whispers.

Her jaw drops as she looks over her shoulder towards Cas’s bedroom. “Seriously?” she asks, scurrying after him down the hall.

Dean nods slowly. “Literally takes my breath away. And his _huge_ freaking hands?” He fans himself dramatically, just to see Jo scowl.

“I hate you so much right now,” she whispers. They both pause as they reach the fork in the hallways, and Jo sticks her head out, looking both ways before she waves him across and into the hallway that leads to his bedroom. “You just had to go fall for the one guy who’s gonna be in the palace that I didn’t grow up with. A nicer friend would’ve at least let me have a shot at him before you married him.”

“Big time dibs,” Dean says, not at all sorry. “Don’t laugh, but I, uh... I think I might’ve fallen for him.”

She snickers. “Yeah, I know. I have eyes. And I repeat: I hate you so much right now.”

“I’ll see if he has a friend,” Dean says. Then, realizing Castiel doesn’t, he says, “Hey, what do you think about Gabriel?”

“He’s not _terrible,_ but he isn’t staying here anymore,” she tells him.

“He’s not?”

“He can’t. There’s only two extra rooms here, and it’s not like a prince or king were gonna share. He’s moving to the inn to sleep tonight.”

“Well, I’ll find out how old he is before you get any ideas anyway,” he says back. They reach his door, and he turns to face her before he goes inside. “And listen. Seriously, thanks for having my back earlier.”

“We _all_ have your back. I’ll bring you your breakfast so you can hide a while longer, but don’t forget to change your clothes.”

“I’m on it. Thanks again, Jo.”

She gives him a thumbs up as she hurries back down the hall, and Dean closes the door behind him. He throws on the first thing he finds hanging in his closet, some other expensive garment he was probably supposed to wear to impress Cas that he didn’t even bother with, but his mind is mostly on his dad. He redresses in a pair of dark brown slacks and a deep red, almost maroon leather jacket that buttons up just below his neck. It has a matching belt he secures on his hip, and although he never would have chosen this on his own, when he leaves the collar popped, he actually thinks he looks pretty good. He barely has his black knee-high boots on when there’s a knock on his door.

Assuming it’s Jo with his breakfast, he pulls it open and damn near has a heart attack when his mom darts into his bedroom. “Quick, close the door and lock it,” she tells him.

He does as she asks, but with his eyebrows drawn together. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want your dad to know I’m in here,” she whispers, dragging him back closer to the window and away from the door. “Where’s Castielle?”

“Castiel is in... Castiel’s room.” He purposely doesn’t use any pronouns, hoping he’ll be able to keep up the lie longer if he refers to Cas using his name only.

“Okay, that’s good.” She stops and gives him a once-over. “Did you really just come in from the stables? You’re so clean.”

“Uh, no. I was with Castiel somewhere else. Jo sorta fibbed a little.”

“No, that’s fine, but here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to tell your father that Princess Castielle began to feel ill when you were out with Baby, and that’s why neither of you were there to greet us upon our arrival. I figure we can keep him in his room until the wedding like that if we play up how he won’t want to get anybody sick—including you—before then.”

 _“He?”_ Dean repeats. Then as that sinks in, “You know?”

“Of course I know,” she says, pushing his shoulder a little bit. “How would I spend three days with Castiel’s father without knowing that he’s a man?”

Dean’s eyes go wide as the implication there becomes clear. “Wait, does _dad_ know?”

“Oh no,” she says, laughing humorlessly. “The King of the Angels and I figured out the misunderstanding before your father even stepped foot into the carriage. I explained the situation, and considering we both still want this marriage to take place, we both agreed to keep Castiel’s gender a secret until you get married.”

Dean can’t wrap his head around this. “You want me to marry Cas even though he’s a guy, and not tell dad until... what? We’re standing at the altar!?”

“Well, yes. As far as I’m concerned, your father got himself into this mess and he can get himself out _after_ you’re well and married. As long as you’re still willing to marry Prince Castiel?” 

He’s not sure how much he should say, and he doesn’t have much time to think it through, either, so he just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. 

“It’s a hell of a lot better than marrying a girl.”

Her lips turn up into a soft, hopeful smile that eases his mind the moment he sees it. “What’s he like? Do you like him?”

“Ma, he’s... he’s amazing,” Dean gushes. Now that he can see how eager his mom is to hear all about Castiel and figure out if there’s a chance he can be happy now, he is more than happy to tell her everything. “He’s so damn smart and sharp as a whip. He has the most gorgeous blue eyes you’ll ever see, he puts up with my immature sense of humor, and he even thinks the way I talk like I grew up at the stables is ‘endearing’. He laughs at my stupid jokes, has the most incredible smile, and he’s so... _warm_ and kind and sweet.” Then as it occurs to him that his mom might get a kick out of it, he adds, “He took me for a picnic in the garden, ma.”

“Oh sweetheart,” she says softly. “That’s lovely. He sounds wonderful.”

“He’s been so good to me. So patient and understanding. He asked to court me for real, has been treating me like—”

“Royalty?” she jokes.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “But because of _who_ I am, not what I am. He keeps telling me he’s never felt so much like himself until he met me, and it’s kinda the same for me. He likes me for me, _not_ because I’m royalty, and it makes me feel like I can be who I am instead of Prince of the Hunters. I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

She gathers him in her arms and squeezes him nice and tight. “Oh, I’m so relieved! I hoped every day I was gone that this might be fate’s way of providing you a bright future when I couldn’t, and I am so, so happy for you, Dean.” He squeezes her back as hard as he can, and she only breaks out of his embrace to look him in the face again. “But we have to keep this from your father.”

“You don’t think he’ll honor the contract if Castiel is a man?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I used the first two days to try to get through to him about how unfair and pigheaded he was being trying to force you into a marriage with a woman when you had no chance to ever fall in love with her, and he was at least open enough to talk about it and explain why it was so important that this partnership with the angels happen. He insisted time and time again that he has no problems with your sexuality, Dean, and I do believe him. But your father is a very proud man, and he’s going to feel like a fool when he realizes the mistake he made in the correspondence with the angels.” She sighs heavily and says, “I don’t know how he’s going to react, but I do know I’m not willing to risk your happiness on it after what happened last week.”

“So what’re we going to do?” he wonders.

“We’re going to say that ‘Princess Castiel’ has come down with an illness, and she doesn’t want to risk getting the king or the prince sick so close to the wedding, so she’s going to remain confined to her room until the wedding just to be safe. With any luck, your father won’t see Castiel until you’re both standing at the altar, and since the entire kingdom will already be there watching, your father will have no choice but to allow the wedding to continue.”

And that would be great, but it’s too late for that. “But ma, everybody in the kingdom has already seen Cas. They know he’s a prince and not a princess. All of Bobby’s men, all of the staff, even commoners in the market have seen him.”

“I spoke with Bobby briefly before I came here, and he assured me the staff are willing to keep Castiel’s true identity a secret,” his mom says.

“But what about Bobby’s men? They all saw us outside together. Hell, even the tailor that took Cas’s measurements knows!”

“And when’s the last time you saw your father speak to any of them?” she asks. “He doesn’t. He watches, and he wines and dines the most influential people in the kingdom to keep up appearances, but none of that will be happening between now and tomorrow afternoon. I really think this will work, sweetie.”

Dean nods, trying to think through anything they haven’t already thought of, but ultimately agrees. “It’s better than any idea I came up with.” There’s another knock on his door, and before he opens it to another surprise like his mother, he calls out, “Yes?”

“It’s me, Your Highness.”

Jo. He opens the door and accepts his lunch, then asks, “Did you get some breakfast for Cas, too?”

“I’m going to bring it right after yours.”

“Thank you. Make sure there’s tea instead of coffee, and remember he doesn’t really like eggs even though he’s too polite to say anything.”

“Listen to you,” she says fondly. “He really _must_ be a good kisser.”

He shrugs unapologetically, thanks her again, and carries his breakfast over to the table he and Castiel sat at last night, which is when he realizes the mess they left out has already been taken care of. Jo’s _good._

“A good kisser, huh?” his mom asks. “You really must have hit it off.”

His face heats up, but there’s no use denying it now. “He kissed me for the first time in the garden. It was... like something out of a romance novel,” he confesses, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice as he relives the memory.

His mom places one hand on her chest and looks at him with a soft smile. “I leave you for a few days and return to find my little boy is all grown up with his first kiss under his belt and hearts in his eyes. How did this happen so quickly?”

“I don’t know. I know it’s going to sound impossible, but I think I’m in love with him, mom.”

She reaches over to smooth down a lock of his hair, and replies, “I may not have been here to see it happen, but I only had to hear you speak of him to know _that,_ sweetie.”

His flush deepens, but this might be the one and only chance he has to speak to anybody about this before he gets married. “Do you think it’s even possible, or am I just some dumb kid who doesn’t know the difference between a crush and love?”

“I think no one knows your heart better than you do,” she answers kindly. When he’s unable to hide his disappointment in that answer, she laughs quietly and elaborates. “I don’t know how you feel inside, Dean, but the look on your face when you talk about him is something I’ve seen from you before. It’s the same kind of look you had the first time you met your baby brother and asked if you could both be king. It’s similar to when you first asked to work in the stables, and when you laid your eyes on your very own horse and named her Baby. Seeing as those are the things you loved most before you met Castiel _and_ the look you have when you speak of him puts all the others to shame, I think it’s a logical conclusion to come to that what you feel right now isn’t going to go away anymore than your love for your brother or for Baby will.”

What little doubt he had been clinging to regarding the depth of his feelings for Cas dissolves in an instant, and he feels his shoulders relax as an invisible weight is lifted off of them. He looks across at his mom and aims a full-watt smile in her direction. “Gods, I missed you.”

“And _that_ is why you’re my favorite son,” she replies, making him laugh. “Which reminds me, I need to go speak with your brother and tend to a few things regarding the wedding before I clean up for dinner. Do you need anything else from me?”

“Actually, now that the wedding is going to mean something to me, I have a few requests if you think we can still make changes.”

His mom is still there by the time he’s finished his breakfast, and though she has a list of changes that need to be made in only a day and a half, she assures him it will all be taken care of and that he and Cas will both have the wedding of their dreams. He uses the joy spreading inside of him as the shield he needs in order to face his father, and after a quick hug of reassurance from his mom, he walks across the castle to the East wing where his father’s office is. 

He takes a deep breath before he knocks on the door, then walks into the room when his father says, “Come in.” 

He closes the door behind him, and stays standing to greet his dad. “Welcome back.”

When his dad’s eyes meet his, he feels all of the anger and disappointment from the last time he was in this office come racing back to him. All at once, he doesn’t want to be here in the very room where he lost all respect for his dad and pretend that Cas is anything other than what he is. But he also knows the best way to shove his dad’s face in the mistake he made while trying to force Dean to marry somebody he was never going to fall in love with is by keeping it to himself.

“The King of the Angels asked where you were when we arrived and there was no one to greet us but the hired help.”

“Sorry I wasn’t waiting by the door,” Dean says dryly.

His dad looks less than impressed, but says, “Take a seat.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Be stubborn then,” his dad replies. “I trust Castielle has been well taken care of while we were away?”

It’s hard to stop his lips from twitching when he thinks of all the different ways he’s _taken care of_ Castiel, but he manages. “You could say that, yes.”

“Don’t beat around the bush, Dean. Is that what the Princess will be reporting to the King?”

“I’m absolutely positive Castiel will be singing my praises,” he answers. “We enjoyed each other’s company, and Castiel is charmed by the castle and the kingdom.”

“And you still plan to go through with the wedding?”

“As long as I still don’t have a choice, yeah.”

“You made your choice,” his dad reminds him. “I expect you both to join us for dinner tonight, and you will be on your best behavior in front of the King of the Angels. Do you understand me?”

“I escorted Castiel back to her room after we went for a horseback ride. She wasn’t feeling well at the time, so I’m not sure if she will be well enough to join us for dinner.”

“Either way, you will be there and there will be no stuffing your face or talking like a commoner. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replies. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, you can cut the attitude. I won’t tolerate you speaking to me like this in front of the King of the Angels.”

The rage inside of him is icy cold, and it gives him the courage to speak to his father in a way he never has before now. “Forgive me for not feeling all warm and fuzzy towards you considering the position you’ve put me in.”

“I am your father and the king, and you will treat me with respect.”

Dean snorts a sarcastic laugh. “Believe me, I’m speaking to you with every bit of respect you’ve earned from me,” Dean tosses back. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

He turns to storm out of the room, closing the door behind him, and ignoring the way he can still hear his father calling his name. He’s fucking pissed all over again, and although they’ve only been apart for a few short hours, the one thing he wants is to talk to Cas about it. Figuring his dad isn’t leaving his office anytime soon and that his mom already knows, he decides to make his way to Cas’s room to kill some time. 

“Your Highness,” Rufus calls quietly. He turns, realizing he never even acknowledged him standing at the end of the hall either time he walked by. 

“Sorry Rooftop, sorta lost in thought there.”

“I thought you might be interested to hear that Princess Castielle and the King of the Angels have switched bedrooms for the time being.”

“I’m heading that way now,” Dean admits. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“They’ve asked not to be disturbed,” Rufus says. “I’m sure you can imagine they have quite a bit to discuss.”

Dean deflates like a balloon. “Alright. Can you ask Sam to meet me in my room when he’s done with his classes then?”

“It won’t be much longer until he breaks for lunch. I’ll see to it that he makes time for you.”

“Thanks, Rufus. For everything.”

Rufus nods, and goes right back to standing at attention, and with nothing else better to do, Dean goes back to his room. He flops onto his bed dramatically, rolling onto his stomach when the puff of air that rises up smells like Cas. He scooches up until his head is on Cas’s pillow, and lets the familiar scent calm his frayed nerves. He has no idea if or how hiding Cas until the wedding is going to work, and unlike his mom, he’s not so sure his dad is above stopping the whole thing the second Castiel walks into the chapel.

And even if he does... the fallout is bound to be ugly.

And not just for him and Cas, either. His dad’s going to be just as pissed at his mom, if not more, and then all of them are supposed to sit together at a royal reception and break bread afterwards? How is that going to work? There’s no fucking way. His dad will cancel the whole thing, try to get the marriage annulled, hell, he wouldn’t even put it past him to pay off the person who’s marrying them to say it was never legal in the first place.

What the hell are they going to do?

When Castiel’s scent is no longer comforting enough to keep him in his bed, he winds up pacing the bedroom. Of course, that doesn’t help anything either, but that’s _literally_ the problem here, that he has no idea what he _can_ do and he’s going out of his damn mind trying to come up with something.

A knock on his door is the lifeline he’s looking for, and when he opens it up to see Sam standing there, he could almost weep with relief at the momentary distraction. “What’s up?” Sam asks.

“Dad’s back,” Dean tells him.

“I heard. Are you freaking out?”

“Gee, ya think?”

He closes the door behind his brother, and stays silent as Sam crosses the room to sit at the table. “Mom filled me in on her plan,” Sam tells him.

“And what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Sam replies. “Mom seems to think Dad will be more concerned with looking like an idiot if he stops the wedding after it’s started than he will if he goes through with it, and she’s gotta know him better than we do, right?”

Dean shrugs, because he has no idea. “Probably?” he hedges. 

“Is that why you wanted to see me?”

“I wanted to make sure you knew we were sticking with the Cas is a girl story, yeah, but I also have to tell you something. And you’re gonna be pissed.”

Sam lets out a long stream of air. “Well you sure know how to lead into something.”

“You know how you were wondering how dad convinced me to agree to marry Cas when we both thought she was a woman?” he starts.

“Right after you realized you were gay?” Sam asks, huffing a dry laugh. “Yeah. I remember, but then Castiel turned out to be a man and I didn’t think it mattered anymore.” Dean rubs at the back of his neck nervously, and Sam narrows his eyes. “What did you do, Dean?”

“Basically, dad told me regardless if I’m gay or not, a Winchester was going to marry into the LOA.” He waits to let that sink in for a second, then finishes with, “And he didn’t really care which one.”

Sam screws his face up in confusion. “You thought _I_ would agree to marry a princess? I’m going to marry Jessica.”

“I know that,” Dean says. “But dad said if he told you it was you or me, you’d...”

“Do the same thing for you that you did for me,” Sam finishes, obviously putting the pieces together now. “That _jerk!”_

“I know. And it fucking sucked, but I figured since you already knew what it felt like to be in love, it would be worse for you to lose out on it than it would be for me to never know what it felt like. So I made a deal that said I would do everything physically possible to have babies with the princess in exchange for his word that you could marry anybody, period. We signed a contract and everything.”

“And now you don’t know if he’s going to uphold the contract or not, so you wanted to warn me in case he tries to use you against me the way he used me against you,” Sam guesses. “Smart. Because now he has no way to force you into marrying anybody.” 

“That we know of,” Dean says darkly. “I wouldn’t put it past him to have something else up his sleeve.”

“Well, if mom’s plan works and Castiel stays hidden until he walks down the aisle, he’s not going to have a chance to use it,” Sam points out. 

That’s true. He eyes his brother suspiciously, though, because he expected Sam to lose his mind over the deal he made for him, and he hasn’t yet. “How come you’re not mad?”

Sam’s jaw drops. “I am mad. I’m furious! But I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him for treating us like pawns in a game instead of his children. I’ll _never_ treat my kids like that.”

“I’ll kick your ass if you do. Father of the future king or not,” Dean points out. 

Sam laughs a little, but he looks thoughtful. “It’s kinda funny, because my whole life I grew up knowing _you_ were the future king and I wasn’t. Out of the two of us, you were more important—”

“That’s not true,” Dean interrupts.

“Not to you, but to most people it is,” Sam says. “We both know Dad’s barely even given me a second look from the day I was born, and anytime he did, it was only to point out that he wished you acted more like me.”

“We should hate each other,” Dean says, smiling wryly. “The way he always played us against each other. How I get to be king and you don’t, and how you _act_ like royalty and I don’t.”

“Hard to resent you for being something it’s always been pretty clear you had no interest in actually being,” Sam says. “I’ve never felt that you _get_ to be king and I don’t, it’s that you _have_ to be king and I don’t.” Ain’t that the truth. “But it turns out, I’m not so unimportant after all, am I?”

“What do you mean?” Dean wonders.

“Once you marry Castiel, _I’m_ the only chance dad and the kingdom as a whole has to carry on the royal bloodline.” The spark in Sam’s eyes is exactly the kind of thing Dean’s seen on his brother’s face a million times after he’s solved a problem, and he waits with bated breath for Sam to finish his thought. An evil smirk curls his lips before he bitterly continues, “And thanks to the last 16 years of his tender, loving upbringing, I’ve learned at his knee that I shouldn’t be above using that to help you get what you want.”

Dean lifts his eyebrows at just how cold his brother’s voice is all of the sudden. “How?”

Sam holds one finger up. “I just realized I’m making a really big assumption here, so I need to ask this first. If it weren’t for the arranged marriage and you could marry anybody you choose, would it be Castiel?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers without hesitation. “I’m in love with him.”

“I thought so,” Sam says, smiling softly. But then he nods his head as if he’s come to the conclusion he anticipated, and he sobers quickly. Sam gets to his feet with his hands on his hips, and Dean has one of those moments that takes his breath away when Sam flickers between the little kid he grew up with and the man he’s becoming. And then for the second time that day, his whole realm gets turned upside down. “The King wants to bargain with people’s children? Two can play at that game. After you marry Castiel, I’ll make sure that dad knows if he kicks you and Castiel out of the castle, then Jess and I won’t have children at all. So he can either swallow his pride and let _both_ of his children be happy, or he can die knowing choosing the kingdom over his family is what caused the royal bloodline to come to an end. Permanently.”

Sam’s plan—hell, knowing that they actually have a plan at all—is enough to get him through the afternoon and down to the dining room at six, as requested. He’s a little nervous to meet Cas’s dad, especially since he doesn’t know what Cas told him, but he’s hopeful he can charm The King of the Angels as easily as he charmed the Prince.

It turns out he doesn’t need to worry about that though, because The King decides to have dinner alone in his room since he’s still recuperating from three full days of travel. That’s not to say dinner is a pleasant affair by any means, with him and Sam both pissed off at their dad and suddenly unwilling to take any of his shit. Thankfully, his dad’s pretty quiet, too, but the furtive glances at his mom don’t go unnoticed. He only has to look at Sam in a certain way to have Sam nodding, letting him know he’s picked up on it, too, and while their mom babbles on about cars and planes and restaurants that hand you food through a window, he wonders what exactly has gone on behind the scenes to have his dad so well behaved in front of his mother.

His dad certainly didn’t have any qualms about being his typical self when it was just the two of them alone in his office, but he seems to be checking Mary’s reaction before and after every word he says to either Dean or Sam. In fact, his dad asks Sam directly about his studies for the first time Dean can remember, and if Sam didn’t blow him off by stubbornly but politely replying with one-word answers, it could’ve been a nice moment between them. 

Not that The King deserves it.

His dad is the first one to excuse himself, and they’re all silent just long enough for him to walk down the hall before they all relax and settle into a more casual conversation. They chat over dessert and tea, and they hear more about the LOA through their mom’s eyes. It impresses them all that Dean actually knows some of the things she’s talking about, but more than anything, it makes him miss Cas. It’s only been about seven hours since he’s seen him, but this is the longest they’ve been apart during the day since they met and he’s almost antsy with the need to see his face.

They go over a few more details for the wedding after that, and Dean’s impressed but not surprised that his mom’s managed to take care of all of the requests that he made earlier in the day. There must be something in his eyes when he thinks of marrying Cas tomorrow with all the little things included that Cas has let slip over the last week, because his mom looks at him fondly before she reaches out to take his hand. “Go see him, sweetie. We’ll cover for you if you need it.”

He looks at her in surprise. Bobby and Ellen giving him the go-ahead to be with Cas behind closed doors is one thing, but his mom giving him her blessing is something else entirely. “Really?” he checks.

She nods, laughing. “If you think Ellen wasn’t busting at the seams to tell me everything I missed while I was gone, you don’t know her as well as you think you do. You have my blessing to love freely, Dean. Just don’t stay up too late. Tomorrow will be a long day for both of you, and you’ll want to be able to enjoy your wedding night.”

He stands and leans in to give her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, ma. Sammy, see you tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be ready for 11AM,” Sam promises as Dean gives him a little pat on the back on the way out. “That way I can help you get into your dress.”

“You’re the one with the long hair, Samantha,” Dean says over his shoulder. 

He can almost see the scowl on Sam’s face in his head, and that combined with his mom’s laughter following him out of the room has a smile on his face when he rounds the corner to go down the corridor leading to Castiel’s room.

He _almost_ forgets that Cas changed rooms, and he has his hand lifted to knock when he hears the unmistakable sound of a throat clearing. He looks over to where Gabriel is leaning in the corner of the hallway. He didn’t even see him there at first. 

“Planning on introducing yourself to Daddio?” Gabriel wonders.

Dean’s eyes go wide as he realizes the mistake he almost made, and he steps back as if The King can see him through the door. Gabriel laughs, but he doesn’t really blame him. He walks over to the other door, and glances over at him, mouthing, “I owe you one,” before he knocks quietly on Castiel’s door. He hears the sound of Castiel’s footsteps on the other side of the door, but it doesn’t open. “It’s me,” he whispers, and finally, there’s a click as the door unlocks and Castiel opens the door a crack. “Let me in,” he whispers again. The door opens just enough for Dean to slip inside, and immediately, he’s swept up in a tight, warm hug.

Dean hugs Cas back just as tight, tucking his face into the crook of his neck, and breathing easily for the first time since he left his side. “You okay?” Dean checks.

“I was worried about you,” Castiel confesses, drawing back far enough to look Dean in the face. “Are you alright?”

Dean nods. “Yeah. Been a bit of a whirlwind day, but I’m good.” Castiel’s hands frame his face, and just that is comforting enough that his eyelashes flutter closed. “Gods, I missed you,” he whispers.

Cas’s fingertips curl under his chin and urge him a little bit closer, and then their lips meet in the space between them. It’s a smooth, satisfying brush of lips, of searching and re-aligning bit by bit until they find the perfect fit, and then they both really melt into it. His heart seems to balloon in his chest, all of his worries disappear to nothing, and as corny as it sounds, he truly feels like he’s at home in Castiel’s arms. Neither of them try to deepen the kiss, but that’s not to say it’s over quickly. Every time either of them tries to end it, the other pulls them in for more, and by the time they finally break away, Dean feels like his smile’s about to crack his face straight in half. 

“There,” Castiel says, smiling at him adoringly. “That’s much better. Now you look like the care-free prince I love so endlessly.” Apparently, all it takes is a few hours for any immunity he’s worked up to Castiel’s praise to dissipate completely, because his face heats up almost alarmingly fast from those few sweet words. And, of course, Cas picks up on it. “Aww look at you blushing so beautifully for me.”

“Would you cut it out?” Dean complains half-heartedly. 

Castiel chuckles quietly and swoops in to kiss his flaming cheek. Castiel’s room is much smaller than the one he was in before, and downright tiny compared to Dean’s, but Cas almost seems like he’s in better spirits than Dean is. He goes willingly when Cas leads him to the bed, and they sit on it sideways with their backs to the wall and their feet almost hanging off the edge. They clasp hands between them, and Castiel says, “Tell me about your day.”

Dean launches into the story of how his mom knows all about them, but only gets halfway through before he notices Cas is nodding along and realizes he already knows. “Did your dad tell you?”

“He did, but it’s nice to hear the story corroborated. My dad had nothing but nice things to say about The Queen, as well. It seems like the two of them really hit it off, which is unusual for my father.”

“People don’t like him?” Dean wonders.

“He just tends to keep to himself,” Cas answers. “But he seemed almost gleeful at the idea of pulling one over your dad and keeping my true identity a secret.”

“Gleeful?” Dean repeats.

“Yeah,” Castiel shrugs. Then, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. I suppose I thought I’d have to try a little harder to convince him to go along with it, but maybe your mother did all the hard work for me.”

“That’s probably it,” Dean tells him. “My mom’s hard to say no to when she gets going on something.”

“It seems that’s something she passed down to you,” Castiel teases, prompting a smile. “How was it seeing your father again after how you parted ways earlier?”

Dean shakes his head, remembering very clearly how angry and upset he was all over again the second he saw him. “Not good.” Castiel repositions to wrap his arm around his shoulders, and Dean takes the comfort provided. “All it took is one look and all of the anger and disappointment just came crashing back in. I, uh, was pretty upset,” Dean admits. “I wanted to come find you but Rufus said you were with The King and you had asked not to be disturbed.”

“Never by you,” Castiel clarifies. “I’ll tell him that from now on. You are always welcome to interrupt, Dean, and you could never disturb me. I’m sorry I wasn’t available to you when you needed me.”

“‘s okay,” Dean says reluctantly. “I lived or whatever.”

“Yes, well, I have much higher hopes for your happiness than you merely surviving,” Castiel says. 

“I think Sam might’ve come up with a way to make that happen,” Dean says. And then he repeats what he and Sam talked about earlier, how Sam is willing and able to stand up for them if they need him to, and it’s like he can literally see the stress lifting off of Cas as it seems to sink in that they really have a leg to stand on here. 

“And you’re certain you’re okay with Sam making this stand on your behalf?” Castiel checks. “Because I know how much he means to you, how much you love him, and just how much you were willing to sacrifice to make him happy. We need to be sure this is the best plan moving forward for all people involved, not just you and I.” Dean lets that sink in for a second, feeling unsure now that Cas has raised his doubts. “Do Sam and Jess want children? Will not having them be the same kind of sacrifice it would have been for you to marry a woman for him?”

He never thought of that. Is Sam really willing to follow through on that just to guarantee Dean’s happiness?

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I mean, he’s 16. Does _he_ even know?”

Castiel smiles sadly. “Hopefully it will only have to be a bluff and not something he has to actually live out.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, reinvigorated by that thought. “All dad has to say is that he’s okay with you and me and then Sam and Jess can live out their lives the way they want to. We all can.”

“My dad mentioned that your castle would be put in a vulnerable position if we don’t marry and your kingdom doesn’t get the money promised to them,” Cas points out.

“Yeah, but yours would be more vulnerable, too.” The second the words are out of his mouth, his stomach sinks as he realizes something for the first time. “I just realized... my mom was going on and on about the LOA, but she never mentioned anything about a war.”

“From what I’ve heard, it’s contained at the borders right now. Not something your mom and dad would be likely to see if they went east as opposed to west, which I assume they did since that’s the route I traveled. And you wouldn’t really leave my people unprotected even without a contract, would you?” Castiel asks.

“No,” Dean says, not even needing to think about it. “If they matter to you, they matter to me. I could help train your people if I had to.”

Castiel leans over to kiss his temple. “Then we are in the most capable hands I know. Just remember, everybody but your father is on our team, Dean. My father, your mother, your brother, all of the guards here, and Gabriel, as well. It’s all of us against him, and I feel sure we can outnumber him if not outsmart him.”

“Just toss ‘em in the dungeons,” Dean quips.

“It would make for a far more relaxing ceremony tomorrow, I’m sure.”

Dean smiles, dropping his head against Castiel’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I get to marry you tomorrow.”

“This time tomorrow, all of the bad will be behind us, and we’ll be alone on our wedding night,” Castiel says, his voice low.

He stays far later than he should, and as much as he wants to spend the night tucked up against Cas, Castiel insists it’s bad luck for the grooms to see each other on the day of their wedding before the ceremony. Considering what tomorrow brings could so easily blow up in their faces, Dean isn’t willing to take the risk. But it’s the thought of being married to Castiel twenty-four hours from now, bound to him forever, no matter what, that he carries back to his room with him that night. 

And it’s the lingering scent of him on his pillow that helps him fall asleep, along with the knowledge that if they have any luck at all, this will be the last night he sleeps in this bed alone. Ever.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** This chapter contains violence that may be triggering to some readers, and it ends on a **massive** cliffhanger that gets resolved in the next chapter.

“Stop fidgeting,” Sam complains for what must be the tenth time.

“Shut up. I’m nervous.”

“Yeah, well, you can be nervous once I’ve got the cape attached. There’s yards of fabric here and a million silver buttons, and every time you move I lose my place.” Dean clenches his hands into fists to try to keep himself still, and finally, Sam finishes with his cape. “There,” Sam says, stepping back so Dean can get a good look at himself in the full-length mirror that’s been brought in.

The cape somehow manages to add a masculine flair to the otherwise feminine getup he’s wearing for his wedding today. He’s undoubtedly in the most expensive clothing he’s ever worn from head to toe, and he’s so out of his comfort zone he doesn’t even know what to call it. _Maybe_ you could call it a tunic, but honestly, it looks more like a dress than anything with the way it splits in chunky sections and hangs down to his knees.

His regalia is a long-sleeve garment made out of the softest navy blue velvet he’s ever felt, with lavish white silk cuffs that go almost up to his elbows and a matching sash for a belt that clips behind his back. His cape has the same white silk inner lining, and the outside is the navy blue velvet with silver, scalloped edges. There’s a white silk cape top fastened around his neck almost like a scarf that droops down to his chest, and it, too, has silver edges that match the cape. There’s also white, shiny jewels sewed to the scarf, cuffs, and sash, and some navy blue ones on his cuffs and the lapels that hang down from the sash. Some of the most intricate bead work he has ever seen fills the space between the jewels on his cuffs, sash, and the fabric hanging down over his waist. The only things that are plain are the ivory leather boots that almost reach his knees, and the white tights he has beneath them that remind him a lot of what Cas was wearing two nights ago.

_Cas._

The blue is meant to be a tribute to him and to the color of the Land of the Angels flag, but more importantly, to the blue of Castiel’s eyes and the glow of his grace. Castiel had mentioned that he wanted to give the Blue Angel flower to Dean as a symbol of Castiel giving himself to him, and so Dean is covering himself in Castiel’s colors as a symbol of his own. A symbol of how he belongs to Cas, body, heart, mind, and soul. 

“Shit,” Dean says breathlessly.

“This is really happening,” Sam says, obviously picking up on exactly how Dean is feeling.

“And it’s not really that far away from a dress after all,” Dean jokes.

Sam laughs, but clasps him on his shoulder. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but it suits you.”  
  
Dean grins nice and wide, because as funny as it is, he has to agree with his brother. He looks good. Really good. Probably the best he’s ever looked, and there’s not a doubt in his mind that Cas is going to lose his shit when he sees him. 

“How much do you wanna bet I trip on the cape?” Dean asks.

“As long as you make it down the aisle, I’m pretty sure Castiel will stay close enough to catch you from there.”

“Think dad will be mad about the gloves?” Dean asks, glancing at them where they lie discarded on his dresser.

Sam snorts a laugh. “I think the gloves will be the least of his worries.”

Dean huffs an answering laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. And you’re sure about going head-to-head with him afterwards? You spoke with Jess and she’s on board, too?”

“You know Jess has always hated the way dad treats me,” Sam says quietly. “She’s more than willing to give him a taste of his own medicine in any way we can.”

Dean nods, taking a deep breath in an attempt to center himself. “I just don’t want dad to fuck up the whole ceremony.”

“He won’t,” Sam assures him. “Just pretend he isn’t there. Once Castiel is at your side, concentrate on him. Keep eye contact if you have to, and hopefully everything else will just sort of fade into the background while you say your vows.”

There’s a knock on the door just then, and they both turn towards it when their mom comes in. She looks absolutely beautiful, dressed in a floor-length gown in the traditional Land of the Hunters copper with her hair done up high on her head with an elaborate comb tucked into her hair glittering with jewels.

“Ma,” Dean breathes. “You look _beautiful.”_

“Dean’s right,” Sam agrees. “You’ll be the most beautiful woman in the chapel.”

She smiles but shakes her head. “Wait until you get a look at Jessica.” Sam grins nice and wide, and moves in to take the ceremonial pillow out of her hands with Dean’s crown on it. She takes the opportunity to step up to Dean, looking him up and down, and then smoothing out his cape top with tears in her eyes. “Look at you,” she says wistfully. “All grown up and looking so very handsome.”

Dean scoffs lightly. “It’s just the fancy clothes.”

“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “It’s the love radiating off of you. I’m so happy for you, sweetheart.”

Because he can tell that she really means it, he’s touched when he replies, “Thanks, mom.”

“I just came from the chapel, and everything looks lovely. The chapel is already full, and it seems like the whole kingdom is crowded around it,” she tells him. “I’ve never seen such a large turn out for a royal wedding.”

“Seriously?” Dean asks. 

“Come on,” Sam chuckles. “You know everybody loves you.” 

When Dean only shakes his head, his mom speaks to reiterate Sam’s words. “It’s true. You’re the most beloved prince the kingdom has had for decades, maybe even centuries, and for good reason. They won’t find a better man outside of this room.”

“Well, maybe in Cas’s room,” Dean says, which gets a snicker from Sam and an _awww_ from his mom. 

“I brought you your crown,” she says next, turning to Sam and lifting it off of the pillow. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to help you put it on.”

Because the thought makes him feel a little choked up for reasons he doesn’t understand, he has to clear his throat before he can crack a joke. “Are you gonna complain about me not staying still as much as Sam did?”

“Probably,” she laughs. “Come here.” 

He smiles, but ducks his head so she can place it for him. Once he straightens up, she makes a few adjustments, moving some tufts of hair to stick up around it, and again, he sees her eyes glistening with the tears she’s struggling to hold back. 

“Come ‘ere,” he says softly, pulling her into a hug. He hears her breath catch and tightens his arms around her even more. “I love you so much,” he whispers. “Everything I am is because of you and you alone. I hope you know that.” 

A sob escapes her, and he cradles her head onto his shoulder as he rubs her back soothingly. He hears a sniffle coming from where Sam’s standing, so he shoots him a dry look that has Sam muttering, “Shut up,” before he turns his back to him. 

“Okay,” his mom says, her voice sounding watery. “Now that you’ve made us both cry, I think you’re ready.”

“How are we doing for time?” he wonders. 

“You have five minutes before you have to leave, but Rufus is waiting outside to escort myself and Sam to the chapel in the carriage.”

He glances over at Sam. “You ready, little brother?”

Sam nods his head, and he knows without having to ask that Sam’s confirming that he’s ready to take on the king, too. “I’m ready. Just remember to try to enjoy yourself, okay? Worry about everything else after.”

“Sam’s right. You only get one wedding, sweetie,” his mom confirms. “Just concentrate on Castiel and we’ll deal with your father afterwards.”

“Thanks guys. For everything,” he says solemnly. 

His mom squeezes his hand briefly, Sam claps his back once more, and then he’s left alone in his bedroom for the last time as an unmarried man. Hell, this will be the last time this is just his bedroom. By the time they come back here later tonight, all of Castiel’s things will be here, too. The thought warms him, and it reminds him of why his family and friends are willing to risk it all to make sure this wedding happens. Because he’s in love with Cas. 

He uses the few minutes he has to visit the bathroom one more time, then gives himself a final once-over in the mirror. There’s another knock on his door, and this time, he opens it to Bobby. “It’s time, Your Highness.”

Bobby’s dressed in the Hunter Kingdom’s army dress uniform, which is the first time Dean’s even seen one on the old guy, and it brings a smile to his face. “Look at you lookin’ all dressed up,” he comments.

“Looks to me you’re the one wearin’ a dress, Your Highness,” Bobby says back, surprising a laugh out of him. “By the way,” Bobby says, his voice decidedly quieter. “That contract you signed with your dad? Iron-clad regardless of gender, since he used the Enochian symbol instead of the actual word.”

Dean’s heart thuds almost painfully in his chest. “Seriously?”

“I showed three of the top lawyers in the kingdom, and they all agree there’s no legal way out. You can marry your Prince, son. And once it’s done, there ain’t a thing your dad or anybody else can do to break you up.”

That puts his mind and heart at ease so much that he doesn’t even mind Bobby bitching and grumbling about how so many more people showed up than they were expecting and that they don’t have nearly enough guards to keep everybody safe while they walk through the castle. Dean’s going to ride Baby down to the chapel, and as he pats down her flank and gets onto her saddle, he has a moment where he thinks to himself that Cas would really get a kick out of seeing him all dressed up and on the back of his horse.

Bobby hops onto his own horse next to him, and the two of them steer their horses towards the road. As soon as they clear the castle’s gates, his jaw drops as he sees what his mom meant about all the people. The road is lined with people on either side for as far as he can see leading to the chapel, dozens of people deep. He lifts his hand to wave, and the crowd goes absolutely nuts. Flowers and gifts are tossed onto the side of the road as he makes his way down it, and he tries his hardest to catch the eye of everybody he sees throwing something to touch his hand to his heart in a gesture of thanks. 

It takes much longer than they anticipated to get through the crowd, but it’s not as if the wedding can start without him, so he doesn’t let it worry him. He dismounts once he reaches the chapel doors where Sam is waiting for him, and together, they walk into the chapel.

It looks _beautiful._

The antique wooden pews are absolutely gleaming, sunlight is streaming in through the windows, and the huge bouquets of the blue angel anchusa and baby’s breath lining the aisle brings a smile to his face. There’s a wall of white and blue roses at the end of the aisle that must be twenty feet tall and twenty feet across, with thrones for his mom and dad off to one side, and another for Castiel’s dad on the other. He can’t really see the King of Angels from this far away, but he nods in his direction before he looks over at his parents to share a warm smile with his mom and dad. He realizes as he walks down the aisle with Sam by his side that this might be the last time he gets to see his dad before they’re at odds for what could be the rest of his life, so even though he’s still not happy with him for putting him in the position where he has to lie about who he’s about to marry, he walks over to shake his dad’s hand. He also kisses his mom’s cheek one more time, then takes his place with the officiant in front of the backdrop of roses to wait for Castiel.

He catches some movement near the front of the pews and sees Charlie waving animatedly, which he returns with a wave of his own even though he knows it’s not the proper thing to do. Gods, do they have a lot to catch up on once visitors are allowed in the castle again. He sees Jess sitting near her and smiles at her, too, then at Jo and Ellen, who are sitting further back but still closer than he thought his dad would allow them to. 

Once he’s done checking out the crowd, he looks back at Sam. “You got the ring?” he checks.

Sam nods and pats his jacket pocket, and like they were waiting for it, the music that was playing while he and Sam walked in stops. Almost at once, the murmuring sound of the people in the chapel comes to a halt as a hush falls over the crowd. He feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest when the whimsical sound of what _has_ to be a harp fills the air, and he follows all of the turning heads towards where Castiel steps into the open doorway.

Even from such a far distance, the silhouette of Castiel takes his breath away.

The whispered sounds of two hundred people realizing Castiel is a Prince instead of a Princess fade into nothing as Castiel walks closer and Dean gets his first look at his groom. The first thing he notices is that Castiel is dressed in shades of copper, brown, and gold. He’s in Dean’s kingdom’s colors the same way Dean is dressed in Castiel’s, and the symbolism is enough to make his eyes start watering already. 

Castiel is his as he is Castiel’s.

He blinks the tears out of his eyes to take in the way Castiel’s cape top is made of sparkling, golden, feathers—a nod to angel wings, he guesses—and how it cascades down over his broad shoulders into a shiny copper cape that glints in the sun as he walks down the aisle. Each step causes amber-colored jewels all down the cape’s edges to glitter as Castiel gets closer and closer and Dean’s heart beats faster and faster. The warm brown leather chest plate Castiel is wearing is embroidered with golden thread that makes the intricate feathers gleam where they decorate the breadth of his chest. His belt buckle is the LOA crest, a large set of copper wings that draws the eye to his trim waist, and Dean lets his gaze travel down the rest of the way to get the full picture, noting his dark brown corduroy slacks tucked into golden leather boots, which are also glittering with jewels along the top and down the seams. 

He looks every bit as rich as he is, but Dean appreciates the understated wealth in his appearance. What Castiel is wearing now isn’t even as obviously lavish as what he wore on their date, and Dean knows without having to ask that Castiel requested this on purpose in order to allow Dean to shine in his own kingdom. And if that alone isn’t proof enough that Castiel is the best man he could possibly hope for, he doesn’t know what would be.

Finally, Castiel is close enough that Dean can reach for him, and in the brief moment their hands clasp together before his hand finds the crook of Castiel’s arm the way it’s supposed to, he sees the Blue Angel anchusa weaved throughout his golden crown. The tiny specks of blue bring out the blue of Castiel’s eyes, and Dean couldn’t tear his own eyes away from Castiel for anything. 

Castiel’s cheeks are slightly flushed, his smile small and delicate and just for Dean, and when their eyes lock and Dean sees his favorite shade of blue staring back at him filled with more love than he’ll ever be worthy of, it’s the single most happy moment of his entire life.

He knows he’s supposed to turn and face the officiant, but he can’t bring himself to waste a moment looking at anything other than Cas when he’s standing right in front of him, looking more gorgeous than he ever dreamed. And so without speaking, they break tradition and face each other, holding hands and gazing deep into one another’s eyes. He can’t stop smiling as the officiant begins blathering on and on about shit Dean doesn’t really care about, and it seems Castiel can’t either, because they’re finally really here. They’re standing at the altar together, in love and about to be married, and nothing else matters except for the man standing in front of him.

He doesn’t know how long they gaze at each other as if they’re the only two people in the realm, but Castiel squeezes his hands suddenly and flicks his eyes to the officiant, and Dean actually hears the words the officiant is saying for the first time.

“Two people in love do not live in isolation. Their love is a source of strength with which they may nourish not only each other, but also the realm around them. And in turn, we, the members of their kingdom—their community of friends and family—have a responsibility to this couple. By our steadfast care, respect, and love, we can support their marriage and the new union they’re creating today between two kingdoms. Will everyone please rise.”

Everyone gets to their feet, and the officiant continues. “Will you who are present here today, surround Prince Dean of the Land of the Hunters and Prince Castiel of the Land of the Angels in love, offering them the gift of your loyalty and support of their marriage?”

His heart clenches with fear when he realizes if his dad is going to speak up, this will be the time. He’s too cowardly to look right at him, so he keeps his eyes focused on the calm blue of Castiel’s, while all around them, the sound of their friends and family responding as one echoes through the chapel. “We will.”

“You may be seated.” 

Everybody settles back into their seats as Dean takes a wobbly, calming breath, and for the first time, Dean looks away from Castiel just long enough to see Gabriel standing behind him as his best man. Gabriel winks and Dean smiles back automatically before returning his gaze to Castiel. 

“We've come to the point of your ceremony where you're going to say your vows to one another. But before you do that, I ask you to remember that love—which is rooted in faith, trust, and acceptance—will be the foundation of an abiding and deepening relationship between you. No other ties are more tender, no other vows more sacred than those you now assume.” Castiel squeezes his hands again, his thumbs caressing the backs of them, and Dean smiles shakily. “If you are able to keep the vows you take here today, not because of any religious or civic law, but out of a desire to love and be loved by another person fully, without limitation, then your life will have joy, and the kingdom you will someday rule will be a place in which you both will find the direction of your growth, your freedom, and your responsibility. Prince Dean, please now recite your vows to your chosen one.”

 _Oh shit._ This is the moment he has to say the vows he’s been rehearsing in his free time, and other than his dad suddenly stepping between them and ripping them apart, nothing scares him more than the idea of fumbling his way through this. Some of his reluctance must flicker on his face, because Castiel huffs out a quiet laugh, and it’s such a familiar sound that he relaxes just enough to be able to recite his part of the traditional vows. 

“I, Dean, in the name of the gods who watch over us all, by the life that courses within my royal blood and the love that resides within my heart, take thee, Castiel, to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one.” Castiel is looking at him like he hung the sun in the sky, the most radiant smile he’s ever seen on the other’s man face, making Dean feel like the luckiest man in the realm to such an extent that his voice comes out wavering with the depth of his affection. “To desire thee and be desired by thee, to possess thee, and be possessed by thee, without sin or shame, for naught can exist in the purity of my love for thee. This is my solemn vow.”

Castiel’s thumbs caress the backs of his hands once more, and he takes a deep, stilted breath before he speaks. Castiel’s usual low, soothing voice is rough and broken, and he knows the older man is having as much trouble keeping it together as he is. “I, Castiel, promise to love thee, Dean, wholly and completely without restraint. In sickness and in health, in plenty and in poverty, in life and beyond, where we shall meet, remember, and love again for all eternity.” That causes Dean’s first tear to spill over, and his jaw is trembling as he tries to maintain his dignity as Castiel continues. “I shall not seek to change thee in any way. I shall respect thee, thy beliefs, thy people, and thy ways as I respect myself. This is my solemn vow.”

He’s sure he’s smiling bigger than he’s ever smiled before, and he can barely see through the blurry cloud of his tears, but he’s so fucking happy he can’t even begin to resent them. 

“And now, with these rings, your vows must be sealed,” the officiant declares.

Dean blinks the tears out of his eyes and reluctantly releases one of Castiel’s hands in order to turn towards Sam. Sam’s eyes are bloodshot, and he can tell he’s fighting a battle to keep the tears in as well, and the two of them share watery, embarrassed smiles as Sam presses the ring into Dean’s palm. 

Dean turns back to Castiel, takes his hand into his own, and makes eye contact again while he speaks. "With this ring, I thee wed.” He begins sliding the simple gold band onto Castiel’s finger, and continues, “And with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands."

Castiel’s breath hitches with every rise and fall of his shoulders, and he’s so busy gazing down at the band on his finger that he seems to forget it’s his turn to reciprocate. Dean’s more than happy to give him all the time he needs, but Gabriel isn’t quite as patient, and a quiet throat-clearing jolts Cas out of the stupor he seems to have fallen into. He visibly startles, then turns to Gabriel to accept his ring. His cheeks are delightfully pink when he faces Dean again, but his words are strong and clear when he says them.

“With this ring, I thee wed.” The shiny silver band with blue jewels embedded into the band the exact color of Castiel’s eyes when they light up with his grace is unlike anything Dean has ever seen, but he can’t help but feel like it was always meant to be there when it slips so seamlessly into place on his ring finger. Cas waits for him to look up before he continues, “With my body, I thee worship. With my heart, I thee cherish. With all that I am, I give unto you. With all that I have, I share with you. From this day forward and forever, I am yours.”

Both of their hands come back together, and without meaning to, they’ve stepped closer to one another than they have so far. Their hands slip up to grasp at each other’s forearms, and Dean’s ready and willing to kiss Cas right now before the officiant gets out another word, but finally, blissfully, he says, “In the eyes of the royal court, the law, and the gods above, I now pronounce you officially married. You may now kiss your husband.”

They move as one, Dean’s arms around Castiel’s neck and Castiel’s around his waist, pulling him in until their chests slot together and their lips meet in the middle in a passionate but chaste kiss so full of love and joy he feels as if his heart may burst with it. Castiel’s familiar scent surrounds him as his plush lips press against Dean’s so perfectly the whole room melts away. He and Castiel have already shared many life-altering kisses in their short time together, but even still, Dean can feel this particular kiss digging deep and carving out a permanent place inside of him, in his heart, his memory, his soul. He’ll always remember the way Castiel’s hand strokes so lovingly down his spine beneath his cape where no one can see it, the sensation of Castiel’s soft strands between his fingers, and the bone-deep satisfaction of knowing _this moment_ is worth any fallout that may stem from it, because _this_ is true love. The kind of love most people ever only dream about, and it’s irrational and unbelievable because of how quickly it blossomed, but it’s there nonetheless, and he knows with an unshakable certainty that it’s never going to go away.

They’re both breathless when they pull away, and only then does the thunderous applause from those in the chapel and all of the people outside fill his ears. They both go wide-eyed with surprise, and then they break into astonished laughter as their hands tangle together between them and they turn together to face their kingdom as married men.

“It’s with great pride that I present to you for the first time, His Royal Highnesses, Dean and Castiel Winchester of the Land of the Hunters.”

If it’s possible, the applause only gets louder as he and Castiel bow to the kingdom. Gabriel and Sam flank them at their sides, and as the music starts up again, Dean and Castiel start down the aisle hand-in-hand with Sam and Gabriel following behind them. 

Once they reach the double doors, they stop to wave to the people waiting outside, and the crowd absolutely explodes with cheering. Dean’s still waving to everybody he can see, completely blown away by the support the kingdom is showing him when Cas wraps an arm around him and tucks him up against his side. They slot together like puzzle pieces, and even with all of the people watching, he turns to Castiel and gives him a little peck on the lips. 

It turns into a series of little kisses when he just can’t stop himself, because they did it! They’re really _married_ and he’s so _relieved!_

Castiel nuzzles into his cheek, pressing another sweet kiss there before Dean feels his breath on his ear. “I have never seen a sight so beautiful as you standing at the altar, _en olapireta._ I am the luckiest man in the realm to have you as my husband.”

Dean’s heart grows several sizes just hearing the word _husband_ applied to him for the first time. He turns his head to catch his lips in another firm kiss, leaving their foreheads resting together to try to catch his breath. “I love you so much, Cas. I swear, I’ve never been happier in my life.”

“It seems I’m not the only one who loves you,” Castiel says, nodding to the crowd around them who are all still cheering as if their lives depend on it. “This must be your entire kingdom.”

 _And some from neighboring kingdoms,_ Dean thinks, but he doesn’t say as much. Nobody’s more surprised than he is by the amount of people who showed up. He startles when another hand taps his shoulder, and turns to see Sam looking at him like something is very, very wrong. 

“What?” Dean asks, already on alert. 

“The King. Castiel’s dad. I—”

“Your Highness,” Bobby barks. “In the carriage. Now.”

Bobby’s tone of voice is one he knows well: the one he’s been trained to follow without question since he only came up to the older man’s knee, so he’s moving without thinking when he makes his demand. 

“Sam comes with us,” he says to Bobby. 

“No. Gabriel will have his hands full enough as it is with the two of you. I’ve got Sam and your parents, and Rufus is with the King of Angels,” Bobby says, his hands already on his shoulders and pushing him towards the carriage. “Now move before I move ya.” 

Sam’s voice rises above the crowd again, sounding desperate. “Dean, wait!” 

Before Dean can open his mouth to protest, Bobby says, “You’ll see ‘em in ten minutes in the throne room. It’s where The King wants to talk to you.”

Bobby’s voice sounds like a warning there, and so Dean gestures for Cas to get in the carriage while he cranes his neck to catch Sam’s eye. “Ten minutes,” he mouths. 

Sam looks reluctant, but nods, and after one more less than gentle push from Bobby, Dean climbs into the carriage after Castiel. He sits heavily, his mind spinning trying to figure out what Sam could possibly have to tell him about Castiel’s dad. Gabriel enters the carriage next, and for once, he doesn’t crack a joke or make a sarcastic comment. In fact, Gabriel is absolutely silent as the carriage pulls away, and now Dean’s back is up more than ever. 

“What’s going on?” he asks Gabriel. 

“Wish I knew,” Gabriel responds.

“What do you mean?” Castiel asks them both. 

“Bobby practically pushed me in here, he wouldn’t let Sam come with us, and Sam’s freaking out about something,” he explains to Cas. “Now the funny guy over here doesn’t have a word to say for the first time since we met, so color me suspicious.”

Castiel narrows his eyes before he turns them to Gabriel. “What do you know, Gabriel?”

Gabriel looks like he’s not going to answer at first, but then he seems to change his mind and starts talking. “I know Bobby started shooting me hand signals to get the two of you the hell out of here as soon as you kissed,” Gabriel says. “I don’t know what that has to do with Sam, though, if anything. I thought it was because of your dad,” he says to Dean. “Looked like the top of his head was gonna blow off when he saw you two holding hands at the start.”

Dean’s stomach sinks, because _all_ he needs is one more thing to worry about. “And now he wants to meet us in the throne room.”

“Where whatever he has to say doesn’t change the fact that we’re already married,” Cas reminds him, slotting their fingers together. “The hard part for us is over, Dean. Now it’s up to your father to choose what kind of King he wants to be.”

Dean nods, but the truth is, he’s more worried about Sam than his dad right now. Why was he so freaked out? And what did it have to do with the King of the Angels? 

He doesn’t know much about him, other than the king doesn’t have royal blood. “How do you and your dad get along?” he asks Cas. 

Castiel purses his lips as he seems to consider the question. “Well enough. We’re not as close as you and your mother, but we don’t butt heads like you and your father, either.”

“Is he a good guy? A good King?” Dean checks. 

“Why are you asking me this?” Castiel replies, which isn’t the answer he was hoping for.

“You didn’t hear what Sam said about your dad?” Dean questions. When Cas shakes his head, Dean explains, “He was freaked out. Started to tell me something about your dad before Bobby pushed us in here.”

“That’s odd,” Castiel comments. “I don’t know what it would be. As far as I know, they haven’t even met.” Dean hasn’t met Castiel’s dad either. Hell, he was so busy waving at his friends in the pews to even get a good look at the guy. “Honestly, we don’t spend a lot of time together. We have a large kingdom, so you can imagine he’s a very busy man. But he’s always been fair to me, if not particularly loving.” 

“He made you marry me. Somebody you didn’t even know,” Dean points out. 

“That’s true. But considering how it worked out, I can’t find it in me to hold that against him,” Castiel says, lifting his hand to kiss the back of it. “If it eases your mind, though, my loyalties lie with my new husband. If he’s done something to upset your brother, he’ll have to answer to us both.”

Because that does ease his mind, he squeezes Cas’s hand and scoots down into a more comfortable position so he can lean his head on Cas’s shoulder. The feathers are ridiculously soft, and he snuggles in without hesitation, accepting the comfort of something soft from his husband. 

“He’s actually kind of a dick,” Gabriel says. 

“Who? My father?” Castiel asks. 

“Yup. Total dick,” Gabriel repeats “I don’t know what he could have done to freak out Sam, but I wouldn’t be real upset about hauling his ass back out to his carriage so he can go back to where he came from. Someone like him doesn’t belong in a kingdom like this.”

“Truly?” Castiel checks, an air of disbelief in his voice.

Gabriel widens his eyes and nods his head. “You’ve got no idea the BS that goes on behind the scenes.” Castiel seems shaken by this, and it forces him to sit up a little straighter even though he just got comfortable. “All the people who keep going to the frontlines to fight off the Demons. I don’t know. I don’t want to say something that can be considered treason—”

“I’d appreciate it if you would speak freely,” Castiel says. “The Land of the Hunters is my kingdom now, too. Dean and his family matter to me an exuberant amount already, and if you have information that needs to be shared, I beg you to share it, Gabriel.”

After a long moment where Gabriel visibly wavers between answering and not answering, he finally says, “I don’t have anything concrete.”

“What do you have?” Dean wonders.

“Coincidences,” Gabriel replies. His goofy, sarcastic, happy-go-lucky demeanor fades, and for the first time, Dean wonders how much of a facade it really is. Because he never thought Gabriel was stupid, not by a long shot, but the golden halos of his eyes staring back at him now seem so much sharper without the usual mirth dancing in them that he wonders how he didn’t question this sooner. “People going into battle and not coming back right after they question a decision he’s made. Hell, nobody actually having a first-hand account of the war at all.”

“Nobody?” Dean echoes.

“What about the soldiers holding the Demons back at the borders?” Castiel questions.

“What about them?” Gabriel asks. “Who are they? Which soldiers are missing, Castiel?”

“I don’t know many soldiers,” Castiel says, almost sheepish.

“But you do,” Dean says to Gabriel.

“I do. And I don’t know any that’re missing, or any who’ve fought.”

“So who’s fighting the war then?” Dean wonders.

There’s several seconds of silence when the only sounds in the carriage is the clapping outside and the clip-clop of the horses hooves, and then he feels Castiel’s lips brush his hair. “I don’t want you to worry about this now. It’s our wedding day. I want you to go back to being as happy as you were when I reached you standing at the aisle.”

“Our wedding was perfect,” Dean tells him, meaning it completely. “But I don’t think either of us thought we were gonna get through today without a hitch or two.”

“Even so,” Castiel says. “Defending our marriage to your father and questioning mine are not the same things. The latter can wait for another day. Let me do what I can to make this day as magical for you as possible.”

Dean nods, his insides softening. “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, handsome.” Gabriel makes a gagging sound, but that’s exactly when their carriage comes to a stop. “Ready to face the fire?” Dean asks Cas.

“I will be with you every step of the way,” Cas promises. Then he turns to Gabriel, and adds, “Can we still count on your protection if we need it?”

“You know I got your back, Cassie,” Gabriel says. “If everything goes to hell, I figure I could sleep pretty well in the chicken coop.”

“Not if Cas gets there first,” Dean quips, and unbelievably, the three of them are smiling when they climb out of the carriage. They’re the first ones to arrive at the castle, so they walk inside and go wait in the throne room. He’s never really liked this room because it’s full of memories of his dad glaring at him for behaving improperly and Dean leaving feeling like he isn’t good enough, but he finds it’s not so bad without his dad here now. 

“How does it feel to know that will be yours someday?” Castiel asks, nodding to his dad’s throne.

Dean shrugs. “I dunno. I think I’ve known I was gonna sit in that since before I knew how to say my last name. I’m probably immune to it.” Looking at the second throne now, though, the one meant for the Queen, certainly evokes some warm feelings for the first time. “Kinda nice to know who’ll be keeping me company up there.” He eyes them again, disliking the way the second throne is purposely lower than the first, and adds, “When the day comes, we’ll have to have them fixed so everybody knows we’re equals.”

“I love you,” Castiel says softly.

“Here they come,” Gabriel announces in a hushed whisper.

He and Castiel reach for each other at the same time, their hands clasping between them in not only a show of solidarity, but a tangible reminder that he’s not alone, too, and he straightens his spine in anticipation of facing his father and _winning_ for the first time in his life.

To his utter surprise, it’s Sam who walks in first. And honestly, _walking_ in is a bit of a stretch for the hurried pace Sam has to his steps. Dean tugs Cas with him to meet Sam halfway into the room.

“What?” Dean asks, his voice coming out with a hard edge due to his fear.

“This is gonna sound crazy,” Sam starts. Dean nods automatically, because it’s not like this would be the first time Sam’s started a story like this. “Castiel’s dad. The King of Angels. Chuck.”

“Chuck?” Dean repeats.

“Charles,” Castiel corrects.

“I’ve had dreams about him. My whole life. He—he’s always the one in control.”

“In control of what?” Dean questions.

“Everything,” Sam breathes, his face stark white with fear. “The fire. Jess dying. When we were all squirrels. Even that graveyard dream. He caused it. All of it.”

“In your dreams?” Castiel asks, not judging, but clarifying.

“Yeah. And like I said, I know that makes me sound crazy—”

“It doesn’t,” Dean assures him.

“But I’m telling you, Dean. One look at him and…” Sam shakes his head, his lips pressing together into a tight line. “I was scared, Dean,” he admits. “I don’t trust him. There’s no way it’s a coincidence that I’ve been dreaming about him—him _specifically—_ being the reason for every bad thing in every dream I’ve ever had and he turns out to be this nice rich guy.”

“Okay,” Dean says, reaching out to grip his brother’s shoulder to give him a reassuring squeeze. He has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do with any of this, but he believes his brother. “Alright. You told us, we know now, and we’re gonna watch out, okay? We’ll be extra careful.” He turns to look at Gabriel. “Right, Gabe?”

“I’ve got all of you if I need to,” Gabriel promises. He rolls his shoulders, then says, “Maybe try to stay close together though.”

“Wait. What are you going to do to my father?” Castiel asks, sounding alarmed.

“I thought you wanted me to protect the man you love at all costs,” Gabriel responds.

“Yes,” Castiel nods. Then, after seeming to steel himself, he amends. “Dean first. If it comes down to him or me—”

 _“What?_ No!” Dean barks. He whirls on Cas, pissed off and insulted at the same time. “How dare you put that on me? You think I wanna stay here and try to work this shit out without you, knowing you’re gone because of me?”

“You have to,” Castiel implores him. “Of the two of us, you’re most valuable. You’re the crowned prince, Dean. Your kingdom needs you.”

That’s when the lightbulb goes off _“Sam._ Sam’s the one you need to protect,” he tells Gabriel. “Without him, the royal bloodline—”

But he breaks off mid-sentence, because in that moment, the sound of his father’s voice booms through the throne room. “Dean!” Everybody turns towards the entrance at once, and although his heart is in his throat, he doesn’t miss the way Sam and Gabriel move to flank him and Castiel once more. Gabriel stays next to Sam this time though, and it calms him knowing that Gabriel gets what’s important here. 

His father stalks into the room, absolutely radiating power and authority, but with his husband, his brother, and their angel guard, for the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel scared. 

“Everybody out. Now,” his dad barks. “And lock the door after them,” he says to Bobby, who’s standing just behind him. 

“No,” Dean says, his voice even but firm. 

“That wasn’t a question,” his dad growls. 

“Consider them my royal council. I’m not speaking to you without them.”

John turns around, looking over his shoulder at where Bobby is once more. “I want them out. I don’t care if we need every guard in the kingdom to drag them out, they’re leaving. All except for Dean, and then you lock the door and whatever you do, don’t—”

“John!” Mary exclaims, only now barging into the room behind him. “Stop this right now. They’re married and there’s nothing you can do about it! Let them be happy!” she begs him. 

_“Married?”_ John repeats, sounding gobsmacked. Then he looks to Dean and Castiel, and Dean’s eyes must be playing tricks on him because for a second there, it almost looks like his dad’s anger deflates a little bit. “You think this is all because Castiel is a prince instead of a princess? What difference does it make when they’re still married, after all?”

Well, now they’re all equally confused, and Dean can see by the look on his mother’s face that she’s right there with them. 

“This is about King Charles, and how he—”

“Ah, ah, ah.”

Dean cranes his neck to see around his parents, which is when a small man with dark hair and bright blue eyes steps between them. It’s weird, because this guy has his hands folded behind his back like he’s taking a stroll in the park, his dad’s got a whole head of height on the guy, and if Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think his dad looked... scared?

“Where’s Rufus?” John asks, his voice hoarse. He turns to Bobby again, who looks alarmed as he rushes to his side. “Rufus had orders—”

“Did you really think one guard was going to keep me out of here?” the man asks, sounding insulted by the very idea. 

He feels Castiel tense next to him. “What did you do to him, dad?”

 _“This_ is your dad?” Dean asks Castiel. Gabriel was right, Chuck seems like a major dick. 

“Oh, I forgot we haven’t actually met here yet.” There’s something almost _fond_ in Chuck’s eyes when he looks at him and then at Sam, and when fear chills him to the bone from that one look alone, Dean knows in that moment that his brother was right. There’s something not right about this guy, and he doesn’t like it one bit. “Sam and Dean Winchester. It’s a pleasure, truly.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Dean says, his voice low and full of the inexplicable hatred he feels. 

Chuck only smiles. An evil smile that has Dean tightening his grip on Castiel’s hand, and Gabriel stepping halfway in front of Sam. His mom and dad, too, move closer together so that Chuck can’t get past them, and Dean can’t help but notice there’s an undeniable tension in the room, even if he doesn’t know what it stems from. 

“Always so defiant. Every time,” Chuck comments, sounding almost awed. 

Dean has no idea what's going on here, but judging by the way Chuck is looking between him and Sam, he’s almost certain it has something to do with them. 

Sheltered by his parents and Gabriel, he lifts his chin and demands, “What do you want?”

“This.”

And all in a single second:

Chuck doesn’t have his arms behind his back anymore. 

Something pointy glints in the light where it pierces through his dad’s chest. 

His mom’s scream echoes through the room. 

Bobby draws a sword. 

And Dean can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of dark, dark red seeping through his father’s regalia as The King of the Hunters falls to his knees with a thud.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean lurches forward, his legs feeling impossibly heavy with every step until he reaches his dad’s side where he falls to the cold floor next to him with tears already blurring his vision. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s vaguely aware that Gabriel and Bobby have Chuck pinned and on the ground, but he finds it impossible to focus on that when his dad is likely taking his last breaths right in front of him. 

“Dad,” he croaks, absolutely uselessly. The blood has drained out of his father’s face already, leaving John looking weak and pallor as gut-wrenching, gurgling sounds rise up in his throat with each breath. 

He feels Cas’s arm wrap around his shoulder, hears his mom’s heartbreaking sobs and Sam’s voice breaking, and all at once, the weight of how badly he doesn’t want his dad to die crashes into him. His dad can’t die _now,_ not on Dean’s wedding day, not when his dad hasn’t even gotten to know Cas yet, not when Dean doesn’t know where they stand. He still needs his dad, needs him to show him how to be king, how to be a man. 

“Dad, no,” he whines, his voice little more than a whisper. “Dad.” 

“Dad!” Sam cries. “P-put pressure on the wound.”

“Sam,” Mary whispers, shaking her head. “It’s—it’s too late, honey.”

A broken sound escapes him at the finality in his mom’s voice, and Castiel’s hand tightens on his shoulder, causing Dean to turn towards him automatically. “C-Cas,” he chokes out, his heart shattering into what feels like a million pieces. “Cas, he—he can’t. Please.” He begs nonsensically, his anguish so sharp and so deep he can hardly breathe through it. “No. No. No, no, no. He can’t. I can’t—I’m not ready.” His eyes seem to focus for the first time since he saw his dad fall, locked right onto blue that look every bit as tortured as he feels. And it’s not fair or logical, but he begs again. “Cas, _please._ Cas, can you—can Gabriel? _Cas?”_ Dean asks, scared now. Because Cas is moving away from him, and Dean can’t possibly keep himself in one piece without him. But Cas is moving closer to Dean’s dad, his hands outstretched, and all Dean can do is say his name again. “Cas? Cas? Cas what’re—”

He’s cut off mid-question by blue light streaming from Castiel’s hands into John. The hands he knows better than any others. He can feel that thing in the air, that tingling, tangible _Cas_ thing that he’s so familiar with, and even though what he’s seeing doesn’t make any sense, the blood steadily spreading on his dad’s chest seems to... stop. His face is regaining color, and thank the gods, that awful, terrible, nausea-inducing gurgling sound comes to a stop and his dad is _breathing._

The blue light fades, Castiel wobbles next to him, and then Dean’s dad—his dad is sitting up! _He’s sitting up!_ His eyes are wide and he’s looking at Cas like Cas has two heads, but then he looks over at Mary, whose sobs are catching in her throat between confused and hopeful-sounding chants of, “John? _John?_ John!”

His dad says, “I—I think I’m okay.”

And he watches as his mom’s arms are wrapped around his dad’s neck, and she’s sobbing all over again, tears of relief rolling down her face, and his dad’s arms come around her to squeeze her so fucking tight but he never once takes his eyes off of Cas.

Not that Dean can blame him, because Cas... What did Cas just do? 

Dean turns to him, too, eyes wide and reverent. “You—Did you—?” Cas nods, looking a little shaky himself, and Dean scoots closer to him, taking his face into his hands as a new concern blooms inside of him. “Hey, are you okay?”

Cas nods again, more firmly this time. “Drained, I think. But otherwise okay, yes.”

“Cas, you...” It doesn’t make any sense what he’s about to ask, but he saw it with his own two eyes. “Did you _heal_ my dad?”

“It seems so,” Cas replies.

Fresh tears spring to his eyes, and he does the only thing he can think of doing and launches himself at Cas. He wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck so tightly and with so much enthusiasm he knocks Cas right onto his back. Cas lets out a quiet _oof_ sound, but he hugs him back just as tight as Dean buries his face in the bend of his neck and sobs. 

“He’s okay,” Cas whispers, stroking down his back. “You’re okay, Dean. _En olapireta._ Everything’s okay now.”

“Thank you,” Dean sobs. “Thank you. Thank you,” he repeats as tears drip down his face and onto Castiel’s skin. “I love you.”

Castiel doesn’t loosen his arms at all, not even when Dean hears the sounds of the people around them getting to their feet, and he’s glad because he’s not ready to let go yet. He’s literally on top of his husband barely six feet away from both of his parents and his brother, wrapped as tightly around him as two people can be with all of their clothes on, but he doesn’t spare them a thought. Thankful can’t even begin to describe how he feels right now, how deep his gratitude runs, how awesome and scary it is that Cas has enough power to bring a man back from the brink of death, but none of it matters compared to the relief of knowing his dad’s okay. 

Cas saved him. Dean doesn’t have to try to be king at 19 years old, and he doesn’t have to live with the knowledge that his dad died on the same day he got married. All because of Cas. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he says again, his face still buried in his neck. 

“And I love you,” Castiel replies, kissing the side of his head. “Feeling any better, my love?”

Obviously not. He just saw his dad die and then be brought back to life by his husband’s hands all in a matter of minutes, but he lies and says, “Yeah.”

“I’d like to speak with my father,” Castiel says. 

And that’s the moment when what actually happened comes back to him. 

The King of the Angels _stabbed_ his dad through the chest. Castiel’s dad _stabbed_ his dad on their fucking wedding day. 

Together, they untangle themselves, and Cas helps Dean to his feet. His parents are standing now too _(his dad is standing!),_ and as one, they all turn towards where Bobby has Chuck on his feet with handcuffs behind his back. 

Like he’s discussing the weather, Chuck says, “Well done, Castiel. I honestly didn’t know you had it in you.” Before anybody can respond, Chuck says, “I’ll have to change a few things up next time.”

What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?

Castiel speaks as if Chuck hasn’t said anything at all. “Have you lost your mind?” he asks, sounding every bit as confused as Dean’s sure the rest of them feel. “You’re not a murderer! And to attack Dean’s father unprovoked? Why? Why would you do that?”

Chuck only folds his mouth into a shrug before his eyes dart over to John, flick to Dean, and then come to rest on Sam. He tilts his head to the side like he’s waiting on Sam to say something, and Dean starts forward. He’s ready to throttle the guy just for looking at Sam like this has _anything_ to do with him, but Cas stops him with a gentle hand to his chest. 

“Put him in the dungeons for now,” John commands. “I want Gabriel and two of our best men stationed there around the clock. No fewer than three guards at all times. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Bobby replies. 

“Once he’s locked up, check on Rufus and report back to me in my chambers.” Gabriel and Bobby drag Chuck out of the room, then as if they planned it that way, everybody turns to look at Cas.

Cas beats everybody to the punch and says, “I didn’t know I could do that, but I’m glad I did.”

“Was it grace?” The question comes from Sam, and Dean eyes him with curiosity. “And that blade,” Sam says, gesturing to where it lies on the floor, still bloody. “It’s... it’s an angel blade isn’t it?”

“It is, yes,” Castiel answers carefully.

“What do you know about grace?” Dean asks.

“That it feels cold,” Sam answers. “At least it did in my dreams.”

“You were dreaming about grace?” Castiel questions.

“What’s grace?” John demands, his voice loud but not hard the way it sometimes gets.

“It’s—I’m sorry, sir, but it’s a kingdom secret,” Castiel replies, sounding torn. “I’m only supposed to tell my husband.”

“Then that’s what you’ll do,” Mary says. John looks like he wants to protest, but his mom isn’t having it. “He didn’t have to do what he did, John. He didn’t have to save your life, especially not at the cost of revealing a secret that’s supposed to stay within his kingdom and between him and his husband. I know we’re all curious, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask to respect the wishes of the man who saved your life.”

“Ma’s right,” Dean says, taking Castiel’s hand in a gesture of solidarity. 

“Fine,” his dad agrees, almost making Dean fall to the floor for a second time tonight with pure shock. “I won’t pretend I don’t have questions, but considering I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you and... your grace... I’ll respect your wishes. And thank you,” his dad says, quietly now. “For doing what you did.”

Castiel nods his head once. “I would do anything for Dean, and you’re his family. It wasn’t even a question.”

“Okay then,” John says. “I have to change my clothes, and then we have a wedding reception to go to.”

Dean’s jaw drops with disbelief. “Dad, come on. You just—” But he can't even make himself say the words. “We should cancel the reception and the dinner and focus on making sure you’re okay.”

“I feel fine. You only get one wedding day, and I think we can all agree there’s been too many interruptions already.” When he opens his mouth to argue again, John continues, “The whole kingdom is out there waiting to celebrate with you. We can’t disappoint our people.”

“I can get Dr. Moore,” Sam offers. “He can give you a quick once over just to make sure everything’s okay. You know their family has our best interests at heart.”

“Yes, that’s a wonderful idea Sam. Thank you,” Mary answers before John can. “Have him escorted to our room, as well.” Then she turns to Dean and Castiel. “You boys take a few minutes, collect yourselves as well as you can in your room, then meet us at the entrance of the castle so we can walk out to the grounds together to greet our guests.”

They all take off in different directions after that, and once he and Cas are behind their bedroom door, they both walk wordlessly over to the bed where they immediately fall into each other’s arms. They hold each other for a few minutes in silence, each taking comfort from the other until Dean feels strong enough to speak. 

“You okay?” Dean finally asks. 

Castiel huffs out a bitter breath. “I just watched my dad try to kill yours. What do you think?”

“Yeah,” Dean says lamely. “Pretty fucked up.” Then, because he’s been burning with curiosity, he asks, “Did you, uh, know that you could do that? Heal people?”

“No,” Cas answers quietly. “But you were in so much pain, Dean, and I was desperate to fix it for you. I could feel my grace rising to the surface, and I know some angels can heal, so I just... tried.”

Dean doesn’t want to think about where they would be right now if he didn’t. “Maybe one of those surges of grace you told me about that can be brought on by, uh, strong emotions?” 

Castiel nods. “It must have been. It’s not entirely surprising when taking the depth of my love for you into consideration, but I just didn’t know I was capable of such a thing.”

Dean feels distinctly warm inside, hearing that. “Guess it’s a good thing I won you over with those chickens.”

Castiel’s shoulders rise and fall with his quiet chuckle, but while Dean starts sitting up a little straighter now that he feels slightly better, Castiel keeps leaning heavily against him. “I can’t understand why my dad would do that.”

Cas sounds so fucking sad, defeated, even, and Dean’s heart aches at the sound of his voice. The worst part is that all he can do is shake his head, because he doesn’t get it either. “My dad must’ve known something, though. If he didn’t care about you being a prince instead of a princess, something else set him off at the wedding that made him try to lock your dad out of the throne room.”

“Do you think he’ll tell us what it is?” Castiel asks. 

“I don’t know,” Dean says honestly. “If he was trying to get me alone, I’m guessing he was going to tell me something. Plus,” Dean adds, “we have some damn good leverage since you literally saved his life.”

“And to think we thought the worst thing that could happen today was your dad trying to break us up,” Cas comments sadly. 

Dean huffs humorlessly through his nose. “Sure showed us.” Then, because Cas seems more despondent than he can remember him being so far, he offers, “We could still cancel, you know. If you’re not feeling up to it. My parents can entertain everybody, and me and you could just curl up here together in those really soft pants you were telling me about, pigging out on wedding food.”

“That does sound appealing.” Castiel threads their fingers together, his eyes turning soft. “I love you and your big heart very much,” he tells Dean. “But the last thing I want to do is give my new kingdom a reason to hate me. I hope to be here by your side for a very, very long time, after all.”

“So we’re just gonna try to put everything that happened after the wedding out of our minds for tonight?” Dean asks.

“Can you do that? I know how hard that must have been to see.”

Really fucking hard. “Yeah,” he admits quietly. “But I figure a distraction has gotta be better than nothing.”

Castiel’s lips turn up cautiously at the corners. “A distraction would be welcome for me, as well.”

More determined than ever now that he knows it will help Cas, too, Dean nods and says, “Then I say we do exactly what my dad said. Try to forget about everything else and just... enjoy what’s left of our wedding day.”

Cas lowers his voice to whisper conspiratorially. “If it helps, I heard through the grapevine that The Queen managed to sneak in pie to go with the traditional wedding cake.”

 _“Pie?”_ Dean exclaims. “From Ellen?”

“Several flavors, from what I heard.” Cas’s eyes are lit up with mischief. “Don’t tell anybody I told you, though. I was sworn to secrecy.”

Dean cups the side of his face and presses a closed-mouth kiss to Cas’s lips, letting his eyes slip shut to savor it. “Love you.”

Castiel kisses the corner of his mouth, the apple of his cheek, then right between his eyebrows. “I love you.”

It seems like the most natural thing in the realm to use the hand still on Castiel’s face to tilt down his chin until their lips slot together. One kiss turns into two, and now that they’ve started and Dean remembers why kissing Cas is so much better than _not_ kissing Cas, it’s difficult to stop. Especially since Cas is kissing him back without hesitation, firm but slow, without any kind of rush or agenda, like he’d be just as happy as Dean would to stay right here and kiss forever. He lets his fingers drift over the curve of Castiel’s cheek, across the line of his jaw, and along the stubble just starting to grow in above his top lip as their mouths continue to move together. 

Cas’s hand covers his, their fingers lace together as their lips part, and he watches Castiel’s eyes drop to the wedding band on his finger with a fond smile on his face. “I hope you enjoy wearing my ring as much as I do yours.”

“I know it’s not much,” Dean says, but he stops when he sees the look of reproach on Castiel’s face. 

“It’s a symbol of your promise to me,” Cas argues. “It’s priceless.”

Dean can’t help the spread of his smile. “You’re a sap.”

Cas returns his smile, and just like that, Dean feels like a weight has been lifted. Today has been a fucked up day in a lot of ways, but it’s also the day he got to marry the man he loves, and he’s going to do what he can to make the most of it. 

“You wanna lose those feathers before we go down?” Dean asks.

Cas nods eagerly. “Probably as much as you want to lose your cape.”

“I’ll do yours if you do mine,” Dean says, quirking his mouth to the side. 

The two guttural sounds of pleasure that likely echo down the halls once they both lose the excess weight of their fancy clothing would definitely be misinterpreted as sexy sounds if they were overheard. They seem to notice at the same time, and the both of them burst out in laughter. 

“You’re gonna have a hell of a reputation before the day is over,” Dean jokes. 

“I feel certain I can blame you for all of it,” Cas says, making him snort a laugh. “Let’s go greet our guests,” Castiel announces. “I want to introduce you as my husband three hundred times, watch you eat far too much pie and scandalize half the kingdom while you talk with your mouth full, then dance with you as the sun sets and watch everybody stare at me with envy while I hold you in my arms.”

Dean can’t say no to that, so they walk through the castle to meet up with his parents and his brother. Sam’s there, but his mom and dad aren’t yet, so Dean takes the opportunity to check in on Sam. 

“How you doing, Sammy?”

Sam shrugs one shoulder. “Been better. You?”

“Trying not to think about it,” Dean says, slotting his fingers through Castiel’s. “What did Jessica’s dad say?”

“I don’t know. They wouldn’t let me in with him.” They all turn towards the sounds of footsteps, Dean steps closer to Sam, and Cas steps in front of them both, but then they all release the breath they’d been holding when their parents (flanked by Bobby and another guard) round the corner. 

His dad holds out his arms, gesturing to his chest, and declares, “Good as new. Clean bill of health from a very confused Dr. Moore.”

“If it weren’t for the blood all over his clothes, I’m not sure the doctor would have believed us at all,” Mary says, sounding remarkably chipper. 

“I’m still not entirely sure he does,” John adds. “How are you boys holding up?”

Dean’s glad for Castiel’s hand in his, because otherwise, he might have fallen over. His dad is asking about how they feel? He and Sam share an equally confused look, then Dean steals Sam’s answer from earlier. “Been better.”

“But ready for a distraction,” Castiel adds, squeezing his hand. 

“I think we can all agree on that,” his mom replies. 

“If anybody asks, The King of the Angels is feeling under the weather and is unable to join us tonight,” his dad tells them. 

“And as for Castiel here being the handsome prince instead of a beautiful princess many expected to see today, we’re going to laugh about a misprint on the invitation,” his mom adds, smiling. “Is that alright with you two?”

“Works for me,” Dean says, and Cas nods his agreement. 

“We’ve increased the number of armed guards just in case Charles had another plan up his sleeves,” John says, more serious now. “Castiel, you’ve met the Queen of the Demons, yes?”

“I have,” Castiel says cautiously. 

“I realize you have very little reason to trust me, but believe me when I tell you she is not on your side. If you see her—”

“See her?” Dean interrupts. “Why would we see the Queen of the Demons at our wedding reception?”

“If I have anything to say about it, you won’t,” John says sternly. “But _if_ you do, get yourselves to safety and signal to a guard.”

“You don’t have to worry about her,” Mary says. “You should be safe here, as long as you stay together. We just don’t want to take any chances considering the circumstances.”

“I understand,” Castiel says before he can. “I will keep an eye out, and if I see her, protecting Dean will be my first priority.” Then he looks over at Dean and smiles softly. “And because my new husband looks more handsome than I’ve ever seen him, I’m quite certain I won’t be able to take my eyes off of him all night. So staying close won’t be an issue.”

“Might make looking for the demon queen kinda hard though,” Sam jokes. 

“You two enjoy each other,” Mary says softly. “We’ll worry about the rest.”

“Any questions?” John asks everybody. When they all shake their heads, John says, “Then let’s go celebrate life and love, and the newest member of the Winchester family.”

And as unbelievable as it may seem, that’s exactly what happens. The guest list must be close to three hundred, and without a doubt, it’s the fullest he’s ever seen the castle grounds. Despite it only being mid-afternoon, there are lights strung up pretty much everywhere, tall baskets spilling over with flowers (many of them Blue Angel anchusa, he notices), and dozens of tables covered with lavish table cloths, sparkling tableware, and shiny glasses. He and Cas do what they’ve both been taught their whole lives and circle the room, going table to table, using names of guests when he can remember them and Cas stepping in to introduce himself (and therefore get an answering introduction in return) anytime he doesn’t. They laugh about the Princess “misprint” on the invitation and say how it will make a great story to tell their niece or nephew someday, and bemoan the fact that the King of the Angels is feeling too under the weather to celebrate with them. 

Ellen has outdone herself, and Dean’s going to put in a stern word about her taking a few days off after this because she’s never looked so tired, but the food is absolutely delicious. As Cas predicted, he gorges himself, gets his fair share of glares from his father for his behavior, and smiles through chipmunked cheeks that make his mom laugh and his dad clearly rethink his life choices leading up to this point.

Cas keeps smiling though, and there isn’t a single moment when they aren’t holding hands or touching one another. Cas’s hand rests on his lower back like it was meant to fit there, and they move around in each other’s space like they’ve been doing it for their whole lives, not only the week they’ve known each other. They get many comments on what a beautiful couple they make, how happy they look, and how touching the ceremony was. 

They raise their glasses in countless toasts while they eat, and by the time they’re walking onto the dance floor hand-in-hand for their first dance as a married couple, Dean isn’t sure if it’s the wine or Castiel’s presence that has his head spinning, but he does know he’s enjoying himself much more than he thought he would a few hours ago.

Probably his favorite part of all of the mingling is seeing the moment Charlie and Castiel finally meet. Charlie leaps out of her seat and into Dean’s arms so fast he sees half a dozen guards move in before Bobby waves them down, and between one second and the next, she’s out of Dean’s arms and in Castiel’s. Dean’s smile is at face-cracking levels when he sees how wide Castiel’s eyes go with surprise until he seems to realize what’s happening and says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Bradbury,” as if she isn’t currently hanging off of him like a very excited koala bear. 

“Miss Bradbury,” she mocks in a low voice, breaking off into giggles afterwards. She backs away just enough to look Cas straight in the face, then turns to Dean and says, “He’s dreamy.”

“Hell yeah he is,” Dean says proudly.

“Sit, sit, sit,” Charlie demands, ushering them both into seats for the first time in what definitely _feels_ like hours. “Let me tell you everything you need to know about Dean Winchester in five minutes or less.”

Dean blushes _several_ times in the next five minutes, but it turns out to be a good thing, because it’s when his face is already flaming that he hears a familiar voice behind him. 

“Congratulations, Your Highness.”

Dean stands with a smile on his face to accept the hand Cain extends, pumping it with a broad smile on his face. “Glad you could make it.”

“I saw you ride in on Baby,” Cain comments. “Your form’s getting sloppy already.”

Dean snorts a laugh at the familiar jab. “Baby looked good though, right?”

“She did indeed,” Cain says, smiling down at him fondly. “But she was always the easy one to train.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Castiel says as his broad palm circles Dean’s hip from behind. “I’m Castiel, Prince of the Land of the Angels.”

It doesn’t escape Dean that this is the first time Castiel has introduced himself with his title, or the fact that Castiel _doesn’t_ offer a hand to shake. Instead, Castiel lifts his chin and looks down his nose at Cain, and even Cain doesn’t miss the cue, dipping into a short bow. Dean’s palms start to sweat from the sight of Cain—one of the toughest, strongest, _and_ least by-the-book men Dean knows—bowing to Castiel without even missing a beat. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. I’m Cain. I used to work at the stables here with Dean.”

“You must have taught him well. I’ve never seen a more appealing sight than my husband on the back of a horse,” Castiel replies. 

Dean flushes to the tips of his ears from the compliment (or maybe the way Castiel’s voice seemed to dip an octave deeper when he called Dean _his husband)_ but Cain only chuckles. 

“I’m glad to hear I managed to teach him a thing or two after all,” Cain teases. “I’m sure you’ve learned by now just how stubborn he can be.”

“On the contrary, I find him remarkably agreeable. Perhaps you lacked the proper motivation.” Flashbacks of the conversation he and Castiel had about how _sucking dick_ was ‘the proper motivation’ to get Dean to follow directions makes _Dean’s_ dick wake up and pay attention, and Cas doesn’t help a damn thing when he leans in to press a kiss to Dean’s burning cheek.

Dean turns into the soft scratch of Cas’s facial hair on his skin automatically, and then Castiel’s lips are on his. His eyes widen in surprise for just a moment before warmth rushes through him and his eyelids flutter closed. He returns Castiel’s kiss, pressing their lips more firmly together and sinking into it simultaneously. Castiel hauls him up against him, bringing their bodies flush, and it turns into a fiery, searing kiss from there, despite the fact that their lips remain closed. Dean feels sparks of arousal light up his insides as Castiel’s fingers dig sharply into his skin, and for a moment, he forgets where he is. He forgets that this isn’t the time or place, that there’s no hope of getting anything more than he already has, and goes with his instinct to part his lips and lick at the seal of Castiel’s mouth. 

Unfortunately, it’s in that exact moment that his mother’s voice cuts through the fog in his brain caused by his husband, and he wrenches his lips away as he tries to swallow down the heat coursing through his veins. 

“Cain! How lovely to see you!”

“You’re looking as beautiful as always, Your Majesty,” Cain greets her. “I’m just about to get myself a drink. Would you care to join me?”

“You know, I think I would. Thank you,” she says, accepting his proffered arm. Then, turning to Dean, she lowers her voice and says, “I realize you’re in the honeymoon phase, sweetie, but keep it chaste, okay? The last thing we need is for your father to have a stroke on top of everything else.”

Dean can only nod as his face continues to burn hotter than he can ever remember.

“It was nice seeing you again, Dean,” Cain says. “And it was a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. Congratulations to you both.”

“Thank you,” Dean says. “And don’t be a stranger around here.”

Cain smiles, but Dean sees his eyes flick over to Castiel before he turns his full attention to the queen, and Dean takes that opportunity to face Cas. Cas, who suddenly isn’t looking at him at all, and instead seems oddly interested in the pot of flowers next to them that’s exactly like the other hundred they’ve already passed.

He catches Charlie’s eye where she’s seated, seeing how she’s lit up like a Christmas tree with mischief and excitement, and decides to drag Cas away before she gets anything else she can against him later. He can feel hundreds of eyes on him as he leads Castiel to the dance floor, but at least this way they won’t be interrupted or overheard thanks to the music. In fact, the band switches to a new song as they get into position, and within seconds, they’re twirling around the makeshift dance floor. 

He’s still wondering what to say and how to say it when Castiel beats him to it. 

“I apologize, Dean,” he says lowly. “I believe that was my first experience with jealousy, and it certainly wasn’t very becoming of me to treat somebody you care about in that fashion. When we’re done here, I’ll find Cain and apologize to him, as well.”

Dean shakes his head. Not only would that be an awkward conversation for both Cas and Cain, how the hell would Cas explain _why_ he was jealous in the first place without telling Cain about Dean’s crush? 

“You don’t have to do that,” Dean says. “I mean, I know you, so I know you were being a bit of a dick, but he probably just thinks you’re typical royalty, right?”

Castiel’s head tilts to the side adorably. “And that’s better how?”

Dean quirks a smile. “Cain’s a chill guy. You don’t have to worry about apologizing. Not like you’re gonna run into each other all the time or anything.”

“I may, considering you invited him to come around the castle again,” Castiel grits out. Then he takes a breath and adds in a much softer voice, “Which is fine. I realize you’re... friends... and I know how kind he was to you. I didn’t mean to imply I had a problem with it.”

“Well, that would make sense. Since you do.”

Cas opens his mouth as if to argue, then closes it and starts chewing on his bottom lip. Dean decides to wait him out. He smiles at people sharing the dance floor with them, enjoying the dance if not the silence from Cas, until finally Cas finds his voice again. “I dislike the idea of you finding another man attractive more than I thought I would.”

And it’s not like he doesn’t get that, considering how he reacted to learning Cas kissed somebody before him, it’s just that Cas was so unbothered by it when Dean first brought him up. “You didn’t seem to care when we talked about him before.”

“We were just getting to know each other then,” Castiel says. “I didn’t know you the way I do now. I had an idea, of course, but I didn’t know the extent of just how wonderful and special you really are. I know it’s immature and unattractive, but it drives me mad to think about somebody else knowing you that way before I did.”

“Cas,” he sighs fondly. “Nobody knows me like you do.”

Castiel seems to soften, but he says, “He knew you for years. I’ve only known you a week.”

“And because of you, I’ve learned more in a week than I did in years. I learned things about myself I only suspected until you came around. I learned about my body, and what it feels like to fall in love and be loved in return. Hell, Cas, you changed my life.” Dean looks around to make sure nobody’s too close, and then he adds in a hushed voice, “I’m not gonna lie and say he’s not an attractive guy when you know I already think he is, but I will tell you if you were thinking of it as some kind of competition or something... well, it’s not. ‘Cause you blow everybody else outta the water, and have since the second I laid eyes on you. I love _you.”_

“I love you,” Cas replies. He seems to deflate as he lays a sweet kiss to Dean’s lips that even his mom couldn’t complain about. “I’m sorry for acting so foolish. I’ll do better.”

“I forgive you,” Dean says easily. “And the next time you get jealous, just remember you are the only one to know me as you do. You alone know my kiss, my touch, my heart. You alone tempt me.”

“Mmm,” Castiel hums, low and pleased. “I do like the sounds of that.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, his smile spreading slowly. Cas nods his head, returning his sultry smile, prompting Dean to ask, “What do you say we do the rounds of the last hundred or so people, and then make a break for it to enjoy our wedding night?”

“I would say that beside our vows, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

And not for the first time, Dean thinks to himself that he’s a very lucky man.


	15. Chapter 15

It takes longer than they’d both like, but eventually, the sun goes down, the lights strung up start to really glow, and Dean and Castiel are finally able to escape their reception to spend their wedding night together. They’re both flushed from the alcohol, the dancing, and their regalia, and the sheer relief of finally being able to slow down comes out in breathless laughter as they hurry hand-in-hand through the castle and to their bedroom.

As soon as the door closes and locks behind him, they each start tugging at their own clothing to get out of it, and when they lock eyes and it seems to occur to them both how completely _unsexy_ this is, they laugh some more.

“Not exactly how I expected this night to begin,” Castiel laughs, unbuckling his belt with a quiet sigh of pleasure. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Dean says as he works off his boots. “But I’ve never wanted my clothes off so bad in my life.”

Castiel guffaws as he peels his own boots off, releasing another groan so laden with relief when his socked foot hits the floor that it has Dean in stitches all over again. He almost falls over he’s laughing so hard, which only makes Cas laugh with him, and by the time they’re down to only their undergarments, they’re both out of breath when they meet in front of the balcony window.

They share a smile, and then suddenly Dean is caught in Castiel’s blue gaze, his eyes full of love and glittering with laughter. He’s thrown back to the first time he realized Cas smiles with his eyes and feels his heart clench in his chest when he thinks about how many real smiles he’s coaxed out of him since then.

“Look at you making eyes at your husband on your wedding night,” Castiel says, but the teasing tone he’s sure Cas was aiming for falls a little short. Castiel’s big hands slide up Dean’s back until his arms are looped around his neck, Cas’s fingers start stroking the short hairs on the back of Dean’s neck, and Cas’s voice is much quieter when he speaks again. “If our night ends just like this, Dean, I hope you know I’ll still fall asleep feeling like the luckiest man in the realm.”

“I know,” Dean says, because he does. Dean fits his hands to Castiel’s hips and caresses the protrusions with his thumbs. “But I don’t want to end the night like this if you don’t.”

Cas tilts his chin up and presses a sweet kiss to his forehead. “How would you like it to end?” 

“Naked,” Dean says, earning himself a surprised huff of laughter from Cas. But the truth is, ever since Cas mentioned making love to him the last time they were together, it’s something he’s found his mind circling back to. And every time he thinks about it, thinks about Cas _inside of him,_ he realizes how badly he wants to at least try sharing himself with Cas in that particular way. “It’s our wedding night, Cas. Make me yours.”

Castiel’s eyes visibly darken just from that, but he’s still as gentle as ever when he cradles Dean’s jaw and brings their lips together. Something wordless but significant passes between them in that moment, the moment where their mouths line up just right, and Dean feels his heart grow heavy with the weight of his love for his new husband. It’s still hard to believe that he has this, that he’s so in love with the man in front of him, and he plans on cherishing every moment of tonight and the rest of their lives together.

He starts by kissing the corner of Castiel’s mouth, then continues to line Castiel’s jaw with feather-light kisses until he’s working the bolt of his jaw with a gentle scrape of his teeth. He dips down to mouth at Cas’s collarbone, nipping and teasing at the sweat-salted taste of his skin until he gives into the urge to swipe his tongue into the shallow pit of Cas’s clavicle. 

“Dean, the window,” Castiel says suddenly, drawing his eye to it. He can see the lights strung up outside, and hear the sounds of the party continuing on without them, but he isn’t sure why that’s a problem. “Someone could see us.”

“So let them see,” Dean replies. He’s completely unbothered as he lowers his mouth back to the base of Castiel’s neck. “Let them see the way two men love each other as we do." He opens his mouth to leave a wet kiss just beneath Cas's Adam's apple, then continues his way up and over it while he keeps talking. "With no shame, no apology, and more passion than most of them will feel in a lifetime.”

“No,” Castiel says, his voice so deep the single word sends goosebumps along Dean’s flesh. Thick fingers coil around his wrists and pull his hands away from Castiel’s hips. “Nobody gets to see you like this but me.”

The commanding tone of voice is unexpectedly hot, and Dean’s lips part on a heavy breath as he feels warmth spreading on his cheeks and blood rushing between his legs. “Guess you better move me out of the way, then.”

Cas strikes like a snake. One moment he seems completely calm and in control, and the next, he’s got Castiel’s lips pressed so firmly against his own he feels them brand his very soul. Then a hot, slick tongue is pushing its way into his mouth and big hands are working themselves down Dean’s thighs and to the bend of his knee. Even though he hops to help him, Dean still gasps when Cas manages to lift him straight up off of the floor. He curls his now free hands around the back of Castiel’s neck as Castiel staggers a few steps forwards until Dean has his spine pressed against the wall behind him. 

They keep right on kissing as Castiel’s hands drop to his ass, groping and squeezing as he pushes their groins together again and again. Dean feels Cas growing hard against him, and it has the same effect on him, causing his erection to fill out more and more every time they brush together. Cas lets out short little humming sounds whenever they line up just right, and between Cas's low voice filling his ears, the hands kneading his ass, and the cock pressed up against him, Dean’s head is already spinning. 

“I don’t know how I managed to keep my hands off of you all day,” Cas says between his kisses, his voice low and gritty. “I’ve never seen you look more radiant, more tempting. I want you in nothing but your wedding ring for the next twenty-four hours.”

Because just hearing that overrides any and all humility he has, he wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck more tightly and whispers his own confession in Castiel’s ear. “I want you inside me.”

The sound Cas lets out is something close to what he imagines a dying animal might sound like, but because it’s _Cas,_ it sends shivers up his spine anyway. Before Dean can even try to catch his breath, Cas pins him against the wall with the bowl of his hips while one hand slips down between them to palm over Dean’s cock. Just that has Dean moaning so fucking loud, right into Castiel’s ear, but other than Cas’s fingers tightening—the ones on his hip holding him in place and the ones now plunging down his boxers to pull his cock out—he makes no indication that he heard him. 

Dean’s off in his own little realm, too, mouthing at Castiel’s neck as he rolls his hips in short, needy little thrusts. Cas strokes him so fucking good, squeezing his cock just on the good side of too hard and thumbing over his cockhead on every other upstroke.

“Take—take off your shirt,” Castiel pants. 

Though it isn’t easy by any means with his cock sliding in and out of the warm tunnel of Castiel’s fist, he manages to wrench it up and away a split second before Castiel’s mouth is on his newly exposed skin. His head hits the wall behind him with a _thud_ when he feels Castiel’s tongue flick over his nipple, his whole body jerking in Castiel’s arms as wetness seeps out of the tip of his cock and onto Castiel’s shirt. Cas sucks his nipple into his mouth, drawing a sigh from his lips that hitches and turns into a whine as Castiel’s teeth graze over the sensitive nub.

“I love how much you love this,” Castiel grits out, right before he seals his mouth over the opposite nipple. Dean’s nodding as he slides his hands through Castiel’s hair, tugging and pulling Cas where he wants Cas to go as Cas continues raining tiny kisses, lasting love bites, and sinuous flicks of his tongue down upon every inch of his chest. His nipples start to feel swollen and over-sensitive in the best way possible, so that every little lick, every twist of Castiel’s fingers has him calling out and babbling incoherently as he arches and pushes his chest into Castiel’s mouth again and again.

 _“Shit,_ Cas. Yeah. Like that. Fuck, _fuck.”_

He doesn’t know if it’s the cursing that does it or if Cas has finally decided he’s sampled all of the skin he can, but Cas pulls his spit-slick lips away from Dean’s chest to capture his mouth again. He forces his tongue into Dean’s mouth, slides it between his lips and laps at the cavern inside in a claiming kiss that has Dean’s head spinning and his cock throbbing with want. 

“Cas,” Dean murmurs against his lips between kisses. “Cas, the bed. I want—I want you.”

Cas inhales sharply at the same time he wobbles slightly, as if Dean’s words strike him so strongly that his knees are about to give out on him. Dean’s about to check on him when Cas releases Dean’s cock to wrap two strong arms around him, and with Dean’s arms and legs locked around Cas, Cas hefts him away from the wall and carries him towards their bed. A few short seconds later, Dean’s flat on his back with his dick poking out of the band of his boxer shorts, feeling Castiel’s burning gaze on him even while Cas yanks his own shirt off, prompting Dean to make quick work of his boxers when Cas does the same. 

His heart is pounding when Cas grabs the lubrication from Dean’s end table and tosses it carelessly onto the bed next to him. Cas’s muscular body boxes him in on the mattress, his thick thighs spreading Dean’s wider and wider as he moves closer to his body. Cas fits himself in the vee of Dean’s open legs, their cocks aligning side-by-side as Cas lowers himself down and takes his lips in another deeply passionate kiss. They move together aimlessly, rocking and rutting against one another as their lips taste, their tongues plunder, and four hands wander, tease, and arouse.

By the time Cas is kissing down the side of his face and reaching for the bottle beside him, Dean’s panting hard, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and more than ready to move things along. 

“I’m going to open you up now, okay?” Castiel checks. Dean nods, already eager to feel those big fingers inside of him again. “Obviously I’ve never done this before, so I’m going to request that you be as vocal as possible. I want to know what feels good and what doesn’t, and if you feel _any_ pain whatsoever, I want you to tell me immediately. Okay, my love?”

Dean swallows hard at the mention of pain. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“No. And it won’t if I have anything to say about it.” Cas’s free hand skirts up his side to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Are you sure you really want this, Dean? It doesn’t have to be tonight. We have forever, after all.”

“I know,” Dean answers. “But I want to. I wanna try.”

Cas leans down to kiss him softly before he promises, “I’ll take my time. Go as slow as you need, and if you don’t like it, we'll stop and try something else that we both do.”

Because he can’t ask for anything more than that, he nods once more and even gives his butt a little wiggle. “Let’s do it.”

Cas smiles down at him, so soft it erases the nerves that were beginning to gather inside of him, and he melts back against the bed, watching raptly as Cas slicks up his fingers. A warm hand comes between them, cupping his balls and rubbing gently before Dean jolts at the sensation of cool liquid between his cheeks. 

Before he can complain, Cas’s finger is circling his hole, stimulating the sensitive skin in a way that has him remembering exactly why he liked this so much the last time. Cas watches his face with an intense gaze, making Dean blush as he twitches and groans while Cas slips his finger over and around his opening. Cas dips just the tip of one finger inside before withdrawing and beginning to circle again. He does it once more, rubbing around and around his anus until it’s sloppy wet and Dean’s writhing beneath him, and then just barely slipping inside before he pulls away.

Dean’s voice is already shaky just from that little bit of teasing, and he’s ready and eager for more. “C’mon, Cas.”

That must have been what Cas was waiting for, because a single finger works its way inside of him after that. Even though Cas goes little by little, feeling Cas’s finger twisting and wiggling until he’s in up to the webs of his fingers stokes the fire of Dean's arousal. They both release the heavy breaths they’ve apparently been holding, but Dean’s also squirming. He’s not used to the intrusion, but as much as he definitely doesn’t dislike the sensation, his body still twitches restlessly as he tries to accommodate it. His abdominal muscles are quivering, his legs shaking where they’re bent at the knees, and his ass clenches without his permission around Cas’s middle finger. 

“G-gods, that’s tight,” Castiel stutters, quite obviously every bit as into this as Dean is. “Any pain?”

Dean shakes his head and swallows down the lump in his throat, wanting his voice to come out as sure as he feels. “No. Keep goin’.”

Keep going is code for _finger me,_ apparently, because that’s exactly what Cas starts doing. His gaze is unwavering as he pulls his finger out just a little bit, then wiggles his way back in, over and over a little bit more each time until there’s almost no resistance. It feels _good,_ and Dean starts panting, already fighting the urge to roll his hips down to meet each electric thrust of his finger. 

“Dean,” Cas says. His voice is low and rough, and it pulls him out of the pleasure he was drowning in only a moment earlier. “I want—I want to _see._ Could you... would you be alright with turning over for me, my love?”

Figuring it might be less intense without Cas staring at him so hard, Dean agrees with a nod. Cas pulls his finger all the way out, and Dean’s already anticipating the sensation of Cas’s finger pushing back inside of him when he rolls over onto his stomach. The soft blankets beneath him steal his breath when he realizes they give him something to rut against for the first time in what feels like a long time, so he rocks down into it, feeling his cock sliding along the soft sheets.

“As arousing as it is to watch you move like that, I’d like nothing more than to see you up on your hands and knees, Dean.” 

Castiel sounds amused but just as aroused as he said he was, and so Dean shoots him a grin over his shoulder while he pushes himself up to his hands and knees. “Like that, dear husband?”

He has his answer before Cas can say a word, because Cas is looking at him like he’s a treasured piece of art instead of a cheeky, freckled virgin. “Good gods,” Cas breathes, his palms skirting reverently down the bend of Dean’s spine until he has two big hands spanning his hips. He’s thinking about how fucking big Cas’s hands are on his tiny hips when he feels thumbs digging into the flesh of his asscheeks, and his heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest with how hard it’s beating when Cas spreads his cheeks apart and exposes his virgin hole.

“Ohhh,” Castiel moans, low and dirty like he just found euphoria. "You’re every bit as beautiful here as you are everywhere else. Pink and fresh and absolutely perfect.”

He shivers in anticipation when he feels two of Castiel’s fingers run along his cleft, and when one pushes inside of him again, his jaw drops as pleasure spikes through him. _“Oh._ Oh, _Dean._ Oh fuck. Dean, you look s-so good like this.” Castiel starts moving his finger in and out of him, groaning each time he sinks inside as far as he can go. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” Dean admits. But his throat is so dry it gets caught somewhere along the way, so he has to swallow and try again. “Feels so good.”

 _“You_ feel good,” Castiel says. “So hot and tight. I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

Lust hits him like a punch to the gut at the thought, and he pushes back into Castiel’s finger looking for more. He gasps at the increased friction and immediately does it again, and soon, he’s fucking himself on Cas’s finger. Cas steadies him with a big hand on his lower back while Dean rocks back to take his finger inside of him over and over, feeling powerful with the way Cas praises him even as he lets him set his own pace. Dean experiments with how different it feels to take Cas’s finger in halfway compared to all the way, then the difference between fast and then slow, and hard and gentle until he settles into a comfortable, leisurely pace that has pleasure building steadily at the base of his heavy cock. 

He feels loose and open, and a part of him feels like he could do this all night, but he knows they’re working up to something here, so he pants out, “More. I can—I can take more.”

Castiel leans down to kiss his spine, to mouth along the curve of his ass cheeks while he spreads more lubrication onto his fingers. “You’re doing so well, Dean. I can’t even begin to put into words how unbearably sexy this is. I’m going to try two fingers now.” He waits for Dean to nod his permission, then a second finger slowly inches its way inside of him. 

Dean’s hips still automatically at the uncomfortable reality of so much _girth_ breaching him, and Castiel slows his entrance even more. Dean keeps nodding though, giving him the silent okay to keep going as he waits for the alien sensation of his flesh stretching _there_ to abide enough that he can catch his breath again. 

“Is it too much?” Cas asks, voice tight. 

“No. Doesn’t hurt,” Dean says gruffly. “Just feels... sorta weird.” 

“Do you want to stop? Take a break maybe?”

“No,” Dean says immediately. “I don’t—I don’t _not_ like it,” he confesses.

“Still aiming for a bit better than that,” Cas says lightly, running a comforting hand up and down his flank. “Try taking a deep breath for me, my love.” Dean complies, filling his lungs with a big breath and then slowly breathing it back out, some of the tension in his body seeping out along with it. “There you go. I can feel you relaxing around me already.” Cas sounds pleased, and Dean drops his forehead onto the mattress to try to focus on the soothing sound of his voice and the loving caress of his familiar hand. “Just like that. Gods, Dean, you’re amazing. So good for me.”

Heat flashes along his skin from the praise, elation only adding to the pleasure of hearing Cas talk about him like that, and he pushes back again, seeking that sweet friction from before. Cas watches him do it, allowing Dean to work himself into a rhythm that gradually starts to increase as he gets looser and looser. It feels unbelievable, and he can feel pleasure beginning to build inside of him as he continues riding Castiel's fingers. Cas’s hand suddenly curls around Dean’s hip, holding tight to keep him in place, and as Dean stills, Cas takes control seamlessly and begins to ease his fingers in and out of his own accord. 

“That’s it,” Cas says encouragingly. “Sweet heavens, Dean. Look at you stretching, making room for me. _Fuck._ You’re taking it so fucking good. You look unbelievable.” Then, as if the thought just occurred to him, he asks, “Does it feel okay?”

“H-hell yeah,” Dean groans. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Cas promises. “Believe me, there’s nothing I want less.” Dean huffs out a laugh that’s cut short when Cas’s finger suddenly _twists_ inside of him. It doesn’t feel bad, but it’s different enough to pull him out of the moment. He turns to look at what Cas is doing, and sees him focused on the sight of his fingers buried deep inside of him, red-faced and glassy-eyed, more obviously turned on than Dean’s ever seen him before. 

Amused, Dean checks, “You okay back there?” 

Cas only looks embarrassed to be caught for a moment before a smile tugs at his lips. “I’m finding this extremely arousing.”

“I can tell,” Dean says, smiling a little at just how wrecked his husband looks. “Why’d you stop?”

“I didn’t. I’m... trying something,” Castiel says cryptically. “Bear with me for a few moments.” Dean drops his head back onto the mattress, giving himself over to the distracting kisses Cas presses along his spine while his fingers prod around inside of him. It definitely feels like Cas is looking for something, with the way his fingers plunge in and out at different angles each time. “I’m sure I read...”

And then sparks _explode_ inside of him. Cas’s fingers locate something that sends an electric surge of pleasure from his dick all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he wonders deliriously if this is what it feels like to be struck by lightning, to have it rip through his body and leave nothing but a pile of smoking ash behind him. 

He calls out _loudly,_ his body locks up, and when Cas prods that same spot deep inside of him a second time and grinds his fingertips against it, Dean is suddenly hurtling towards his orgasm at such an unbelievable speed that he can hardly make words to ask for what he needs through the onslaught of pleasure. 

“F-fuck, Cas! _T-touch me!”_

Cas fits himself over the curve of Dean’s back, his chin hooks over Dean’s shoulder, and Cas _barely_ gets a hand wrapped around his drooling cock before one more tiny _prod_ to that little magic spot makes him _shatter._ He buries his face in the mattress and shouts himself hoarse as more pleasure than he’s ever experienced floods through him in an instant, and he’s coming hot and hard over Cas’s fingers and on the bed beneath him as Cas milks his cock with slow, languid strokes.

He’s barely aware of Cas pressing dry kisses to his shoulder, to the side of his neck, of his rough voice muttering, “Gods, you’re gorgeous. Falling apart so beautifully for me, clenching around me, so _endlessly_ arousing, Dean. _Fuck._ You can’t possibly know how close I am without even being touched,” as he struggles to regain control of his body. 

The first words he forces out from his raw-feeling throat are, “I still—I still want to have sex with you.”

Castiel breathes a laugh through his nose and leaves a smacking kiss on his cheek. “Maybe you should catch your breath first. Your arms and legs are shaking, Dean. Come here.”

He goes when Cas falls onto his back and pulls, goes into the warmth of Castiel’s arms and onto the overheated, sweat-slick skin of his chest. He’s still trembling slightly, his insides feeling raw and his ass smarting a little now that pleasure isn’t overriding everything else, but Castiel’s hold is strong and sure and Dean feels himself slowly coming back together piece by piece. He matches his ragged breathing to Castiel’s calmer breaths and nuzzles into Castiel’s throat as Cas strokes through his hair and down the back of his neck, feeling warm and lazy and loved.

But also confused about what just happened.

“What _was_ that?” he asks suddenly.

“What was what?” Castiel repeats.

“That thing inside of me that made me go off like a damn rocket.”

Castiel kisses his forehead. “I won’t pretend to be an expert, but if I had to guess, I’d say you were just introduced to the joys of your prostate for the first time.”

“Prostate, huh?” Dean echoes. “And it’s supposed to feel like that?”

“From everything I’ve read, yes. I was hoping I could find it and help you feel as good as you deserve.”

“Mission accomplished,” Dean says, making Cas laugh quietly again. “Obviously I liked it, but it was fucking intense.”

Cas tilts his face up with a knuckle under his chin. “Next time I’ll try to be more gentle.”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Dean’s lips, then another, and another, and Dean’s definitely still out of breath at this point, but he’s certainly not against kissing Cas. Not when Cas is cupping his face and touching him so gently, making him feel like he’s the most precious thing in the realm. Cas urges him onto his back, and he feels Castiel’s hands skirt down his sides and onto his hips, his mouth hot and wet traveling down the side of Dean’s face to his neck and his collarbone.  
  
Cas worships him with broad sweeps of his hands and tender, loving kisses to inch after inch of his skin. He remembers Cas telling him not so long ago that he wants to kiss every one of his freckles, and with the amount of time he’s spending on his belly and shoulders, he wonders if that’s what he’s doing now. The thought causes warmth to bubble up inside of him, and even though he’s not all the way hard again just yet, he still wants to be closer to Cas, to finish what they started and let Cas enter him with more than just his fingers.

So he drags Cas back up to his mouth to kiss him firm and deep, and he guides Cas down until he’s lying on top of him. Feeling Cas’s cock so fucking hard and hot next to him does wonders for getting him fully hard too, and the tiny, half-hearted thrusts where their cockheads catch and drag has pleasure beginning to thrum under his skin again. 

Dean breaks their kiss just long enough to murmur, “I love you.”

Castiel’s expression turns unfathomably soft, and he kisses him again before he says it back. “I love you, too.”

This time it’s Dean who reaches for the lube and flips the cap open, and Cas looks so enthralled by the very idea that Dean leans up to kiss his pink cheek again before he squeezes some lubrication onto his fingers. “Maybe warm it up a little first,” Dean suggests. “It’s a little cold at first.”

“Of course,” Cas says, already rubbing his hands together. “Sorry I didn’t notice before.”

“‘s okay. We’re learning as we go,” Dean says softly. All those hundreds of kisses to his chest and shoulders really seem to have shifted the mood, and while it was undoubtedly hot and fast when Cas had him up against the wall, it’s much more tender and loving now. “I know you were into it, but I don’t think my legs can take the hands and knees thing again yet.”

“No,” Castiel agrees, casting his eyes around as if he’s looking for a solution. “How about you lie on your stomach, and we’ll use some of these pillows to prop your amazing ass up for me?”

Dean grins. “It is pretty amazing.”

“Believe me, you have _no idea,”_ Cas says with a grin of his own. 

Cas grabs a few pillows, Dean rolls on top of them, and when he glances over his shoulder again, he can see the way his spine dips before his ass juts out. Maybe it’s kinda weird to be perving on himself, but he sorta gets why Cas likes it so much. He looks pretty good like this.

He feels one of Castiel’s hands cup his ass cheek and pull him apart, and after a quiet hum of satisfaction reaches his ears, there are fingers sliding along his crack. He lets his eyes close to focus on the sensation, and apparently Cas doesn’t want to waste any time getting back to where they were before, because a single finger sinks inside of him with no preamble whatsoever.

Cas pushes in and out, tugging down on Dean’s rim a little in a way that makes his jaw fucking _drop,_ and then there’s two fingers sliding inside of him, making desire settle hot in Dean’s stomach and most definitely helping his dick to fill out the rest of the way. It feels _so good_ to have Cas’s thick fingers inside of him, fucking him slowly, carefully stretching him with each pass in and out until Cas is moving completely without resistance. 

The tips of his fingers curl just right, and he oh-so-carefully brushes over that spot—his prostate, apparently—just enough to make Dean twitch and moan but not enough to make him feel like he’s going to combust. 

“How’s that?” Cas asks.

Without missing a beat, Dean wheezes, “Really fucking good.”

“Good,” Cas says simply. “Let’s see if I can make you fall apart a second time before I do.”

And now that Cas knows exactly how to touch him, Cas gets right to it, finger fucking him while stroking his sweet spot intermittently. As Dean lies there and loses himself to wave after wave of pleasure, he finds it hard to believe Cas hasn’t done this before, because it seems to Dean that the older man is methodically taking him apart one second at a time without even trying. Cas’s touch is always careful, but he’s getting more confident now, too, and the gentle, meticulous in-and-out of those thick fingers are simultaneously relaxing him and working him into a frenzy. Dean’s a mess of sighs and groans, softly at first, but increasing in both volume and frequency the more Cas’s fingertips begin to brush his prostate. Cas crooks his fingers over and over with an unerring precision that leaves Dean trembling and breathless. 

He hears the sound of more lube being added, feels it fresh and slick against him when Cas pushes right back in, and then there’s a third finger teasing at his opening. Cas hesitates, obviously unsure, but Dean’s ready, _has been_ ready to move this along, so he arches his back and pushes back into it with a breathy little, “Yeah. _Yeah,_ do it, Cas.”

And then his eyes are bugging out of his head at the stretch, at how fucking _full_ he feels as Cas works in three fingers. It’s _so much._ The pressure is unbelievable, but once Cas pushes past the first tight ring of muscle, he sinks in the rest of the way easily, like Dean’s body was meant to do this, and the thought alone has him relaxing into it. 

“Oh,” Cas sighs behind him. “Oh, gods. You look—you _feel—_ fuck, Dean.” Cas’s free hand pushes up from his asscheek to rub soothing circles on the arch of Dean’s back, holding him still so that he doesn’t move too quickly. “Feels okay?”

“Feels incredible,” Dean admits, his voice quivering with the effort it’s taking his body to stay still. The sensation of three fingers inside of him is _intense._ The stretch, the pressure, hell, the very idea of three of Castiel’s thick fingers buried in his ass... well, it turns out he fucking loves it all. “M-move ‘em.”

Cas carefully pushes forward the last little bit that he can, and just that small amount of friction inside of him is enough to have him biting back another groan. Cas gradually pulls his fingers out to slip back in a little bit at a time until the full length (and significant width) of three fingers is working in and out of him in earnest, and he’s _completely_ unable to stifle the sound of pleasure that rises up then. Cas’s fingers are fucking huge, and they feel so good moving, twisting, and sinking inside of him where he’s wet and open. 

Dean’s groaning has started to fill in with words, and every time Cas brushes his fingers over his prostate, Dean can’t stop himself from babbling like a goddamn idiot. “Yeah, Cas. _Mmm._ Mmmm _more,_ Cas.” Cas has stretched him so damn good that all three incredibly thick fingers are sliding in and out easily, and Dean’s surprised to find he wants to feel the stretch again. He wants to feel _Cas_ stretch him out all over again. “I want—I want more.”

 _“Dean.”_ And son of a bitch, is there anything better than when Cas says his name all low and gritty like that? “Y-you want—” He stops, groans all deep and throaty, and then he whispers, “Can I make love to you, _en olapireta?”_

“Yeah,” Dean breathes. He’s slick and open and his dick is so fucking hard now that he can’t think of anything he wants more. “Yeah. I’m ready. Want you inside me for real.”

Castiel’s fingers pull out, and now it’s Dean’s turn to groan, but at the loss, at how _empty_ he feels without a piece of Cas inside of him. “Shhh. It’s okay, my love,” Cas soothes. “Do you want me to use a condom?”

Dean shakes his head without even thinking about it. “No. Don’t want... plastic _._ Want _you.”_

“Then you’ll have me,” Cas promises. “I’d like to see the look on your face when we do this the first time,” Castiel says quietly, and Dean rolls onto his back without another word. “Look at you.” Cas is smiling when he takes in the sight of Dean’s flushed face and chest, and his hands move up Dean’s thighs as his gaze travels down to where his cock is so hard it’s almost standing straight up, twitching now that he’s freed it from where it was trapped between his stomach (which he sees now is smeared copiously with precum) and the pillows. “Gods above,” he breathes harshly, lowering his body down onto Dean’s and catching his eyes. “I thought... I thought I was prepared for how good it would feel to be with you like this, but you’ve completely surpassed every emotion, every expectation, every fantasy I have ever had about how this would go for the first time.”

“And we haven’t even really started,” Dean says quietly, feeling pride bloom inside of him. “I’m glad, though. That you feel as good as I feel.” He doesn’t remember lifting his hand, but his fingers are brushing Castiel’s damp hair off of his sweaty forehead. “That this is about to happen for the first time with you on our wedding night.”

“Dean,” Cas says softly. And in that moment, Dean realizes there’s definitely something better than how Cas says his name all low and gritty after all: it’s the way Cas turns his name into an undeniable version of _I love you._ “As much as I had planned to make this last, I’m afraid my overwhelming attraction to you is going to cause our first time to pass in the blink of an eye.”

Dean smiles softly at the way Cas’s cheeks are heating up from his confession. “Then I guess it’s a good thing we’ve got forever to keep trying until we get it right.”

Cas leans in to kiss him softly, then reaches blindly for the bottle of lube that’s dripping all over the bed sheets while he keeps kissing him. Their lips break apart when Cas smears plenty of lube along his cock and even more along Dean’s crack, and then he’s on his knees between Dean’s legs with his angry-red cock in his hand. Castiel lowers his gaze between them to line himself up just right, making Dean’s lips part and his heart _pound_ when he feels the blunt head pressed snugly against his hole for the first time. Cas’s eyes flick back up to catch Dean’s, and it’s as if an entire conversation passes between them silently. Cas doesn’t have to ask if Dean’s sure, if he’s ready, because Dean is nodding and running his hands over Castiel’s strong shoulders to loop around his neck.

And then everything in the entire realm narrows down to the mind-numbing sensation of Castiel slowly, _slowly_ inching inside of him. His jaw comes unhinged as Cas pushes forward, forces his way in a little bit at a time, and _fuck,_ it hurts. Not so bad that he has to ask Cas to stop, but bad enough that he wonders if it’s supposed to hurt like this, until barely a split second later, the head of Cas’s cock pops through the tight ring of muscle and he sinks the rest of the way inside in one smooth thrust. 

The sound of Castiel’s dirty groan fills his ears as Dean releases a deep, shuddering breath of relief, trying to get used to how fucking _stuffed full_ he feels as Castiel bottoms out. He can feel every damn millimetre of Cas inside of him, filling him up in places he didn’t even know he had, and it’s overwhelming with just how much it is, but with how good it feels, too. 

Cas lowers his mouth to kiss his cheek, breathing so hard he’s afraid his husband might die here and now. “Cas? You okay, sweetheart?”

“I-I’m— _fuck._ You’re... _impossibly_ tight and warm and it’s taking all of my control not to—not to— _fuck._ J-just give me a moment.” Castiel’s forehead is braced on his, his eyes squeezed closed and his jaw hanging open, but Castiel’s words are also barely out of his mouth when he rolls his hips forward gently. “Oh my gods.” Cas’s fingers are clamped down on his hips like a vice, almost like he’s trying to hold himself back, and his breath trembles out of him shakily when he thrusts a second time. “Oh _Dean._ Dean... is it... does it hurt?” Castiel asks between harsh pants.

“No,” he says honestly. He would have said no anyway considering how much Cas is enjoying this already, but he’s surprised to find he means it, especially given how they started. There’s no pain at all anymore. “Just go slow, okay?”

Castiel nods his head as much as he can with his forehead still against Dean’s, and then, with their eyes locked together, Cas starts moving. His thrusts start as slow, careful little rolls of his hips, and Dean focuses on the sensation of _Cas,_ hard and thick and burning hot inside of him in order to get used to it faster. But Cas isn’t moving much, just rocking, really, and he can tell by the way Cas’s body is strung taut as a bow that he’s way too tense for either of them to really enjoy it. 

Wanting to soothe them both, he tilts his chin up, brushing their lips together twice before sucking Castiel’s bottom lip into his mouth. Castiel groans quietly and licks at the seam of his lips, and Dean opens for him immediately. The first teasing stroke of Castiel’s tongue feels like home, and as Castiel’s tongue begins sweeping into his mouth again and again, Dean caresses his cheeks. He runs his fingers through Castiel’s sweaty hair and strokes down the back of his neck, calming him, grounding him, loving him and bringing Cas back to himself with every touch. 

Cas has always been an amazingly sensual kisser, so Dean’s not surprised to feel his own arousal cranked up a notch at the same time Cas starts to loosen up on top of him. Cas’s fingers relax on his hip, allowing him to start moving with Cas. Now that he’s not worried about Cas so much, he can _really_ feel it and enjoy the sensation of Cas’s thrusts gradually getting deeper and more powerful as Cas pulls out further and further before sliding back home. One particularly well-aimed thrust punches the breath out of his lungs, and he breaks their kiss with a surprised sound of pleasure. 

“You feel so good, _en olapireta,”_ Cas whispers, kissing his jaw. “I love you so.”

Dean moans in response as Cas’s big hand skirts up the back of his thigh, spreading his legs wider and sinking inside just a little bit deeper. “Ah!” Dean calls out. Like magic, Cas starts grazing that sweet spot inside of him that makes him see stars. “There! Like that! Fuck, that feels good.”

He can hear the hitch of Castiel’s breathing, feels the increased pressure behind the next thrust, and finds himself gripping Castiel’s shoulders as Cas spears inside of him again and again. He’s greedy for it now, and anticipation has him arching his back and pushing his ass up to meet his next thrust. 

“Fuck.” He wheezes with over sensitivity as Cas connects dead-on with his prostate. “Easy.”

Castiel’s lips brush his temple in apology, and the next time he plunges inside it’s not so deep. There’s just enough pressure to make his insides light up, but not so much that he wants to cower away from it. He’s unable to make words through the haze of steady pleasure, but he also needs Cas to know that he should _definitely_ keep doing that if he wants him to come, so he groans long and loud.

“Dean—I’m not—I’m not going to last.” Dean moans unhappily at the terrible timing, but then Cas whispers hoarsely. “Touch yourself for me. Show me how you like it.”

Lust races through him from the thought, and even though a part of him is aware that he never even imagined he’d touch himself like this in front of anybody, he’s incredibly eager to do it for _Cas._ He wraps his hand around his leaking cock and immediately tosses his head back with pleasure, knowing it’s not going to take much to get off like this if Cas keeps pounding him, too. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Castiel says, breathing harder than ever. “Look how hard you are for me. Are you going to come?”

Dean’s barely stroked himself from root to tip, but already, he can feel his orgasm building. “Yeah, I—I’m close.”

That seems to light a fire in Cas, too, and he starts thrusting in earnest, really and truly fucking him now. Each thrust begins with just the fat head of his dick in the tight ring of muscle and ends with the full length of his cock buried deep enough inside of Dean that he starts moving up the bed with the force of the momentum. Castiel’s hip bones slamming against Dean’s asscheeks causes a slapping sound to echo off of the walls. It’s mixed together with Dean’s cries and Castiel’s heavy breathing, rapidly building to wild, harsh panting and desperately needy moans. The whole room smells like sex and sweat and Cas, and the only physical sensation he can feel is overwhelming pleasure from the combination of his cock steadily leaking as he fucks his fist and the delicious assault on his prostate as Cas nails it time and time again.

Dean's breathing hard, his muscles beginning to tense with his impending orgasm, so close to going off again it’s like he’s on a hair-trigger when Cas chokes out his name. “D-Dean. _Dean.”_

Castiel gropes for his hand, their fingers twine together as Castiel pushes their tangled hands into the mattress, and Dean feels something at his core crack open wide. That tell-tale tingle starts moving along his skin a split second before Castiel’s eyes start glowing, brighter than he’s ever seen them, and when blue meets green, Dean feels _that thing,_ that _I know you_ thing, fill the chasm inside of him. 

Cas whispers, _“Olani hoath ol,”_ right before his body goes rigid.

Castiel’s hips stutter, he drops his forehead to Dean’s shoulder, and one final, powerful thrust buries him to the hilt where he comes with a garbled cry, emptying himself inside of Dean for the first time. Dean gasps when he feels the first hot spurt deep inside of him. Heat flashes over his skin like an inferno when he realizes why Castiel’s thrusts feel sloppier and sloppier with each lazy roll of Castiel’s hips as he works himself through his orgasm, and as the first rivulet of Castiel’s cum escapes and drips from his hole, Dean’s suddenly, inexplicably right there with him.

He strips his cock with his jaw hanging open as he thinks about Cas coming _inside of him,_ and all it takes is one final twist of his wrist to send him flying over the edge with his husband. He clenches down on the thick cock buried in his ass as he paints his stomach white with rope after rope of hot, watery cum. He can feel pleasure ripping through him, lighting him up, and he wouldn’t be surprised in the least if smoke was coming out of his ears, because _holy fuck_ he’s never felt so fucking hot in his entire life. 

Cas’s mouth is open and wet on his skin, traveling the tendons in his neck, still breathing hard and slowly grinding his softening cock through the mess of Dean’s ass, and it’s fucking perfect.

All of it.

Every drop of semen on his stomach and chest, the spunk dripping out of his ass, his hand in Castiel’s, and Castiel’s grace _still_ hovering along his skin. It feels like home, like he was always meant to have Cas inside of him with his grace surrounding him, to be as close as possible to this unbelievable man, and he takes a moment to relish the sheer impossibility of the love he’s experiencing. 

“Dean,” Cas breathes, sounding awed himself. 

His voice seems to break the spell though, and Dean mourns the loss of that incredible tingling sensation on his skin for just a moment before Castiel catches his lips in a kiss so tender, so sweet, so life-affirming, that he can’t possibly wish for more than this. 

Their kiss goes on for ages, until Cas has slipped out of him and the sweat is drying on their skin, but moment their lips part, Castiel says, “Thank you for sharing yourself with me.”

 _Oh._ Even now, after he’s married and been bedded by his husband, the weight of his feelings for Cas catch him off-guard sometimes. Like now. “Anytime,” he replies, his lips curving into a smile. 

Castiel’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Is that so?”

Thinking back to their first kiss has his smile growing. “Well, that was just our first time, so we should probably do it over a few times to make sure we’ve got it down anyway.”

Cas laughs the way he wanted him to, letting him know he remembers how Dean said the same thing back then, too. “Perhaps we should see if you can walk before you go making promises you can’t keep,” Castiel teases. “How does a hot bath sound?”

“Depends. You gonna be in there with me?” Cas nods his reply, and Dean says, “Like Heaven.” Cas ducks in to peck his lips once more, then disappears into the bathroom to run the water. It isn’t long before Cas comes out to collect him. Oddly, he feels no pain at all when he gets up, but he forgets all about it when he sees that Castiel has added his favorite oils to the tub without asking to make it smell like vanilla and spice. Cas has the leftover candles from their date night going to, and so it’s actually quite nice when they lower themselves into the water. 

Cas gets in first, then Dean, and they situate themselves until Dean’s between Castiel’s legs, his back to Castiel’s chest. 

With the hot water, sweet scent, and Castiel’s arms around him, he learns that he was absolutely right. “This _is_ Heaven.” 

Castiel nuzzles into the bend of his neck, humming quietly. “I’d have to agree.”

And because it seems so easy like this, so right, and he feels safe and loved and just on the right side of sleepy, he voices something that’s been in his mind for days now. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

Cas sighs deeply, letting him know he’s thinking about it. “I believe in two souls recognizing each other, but I prefer to think these things aren’t predetermined. That we fall in love with who we choose to, not with somebody who was meant for us before we ever had a choice.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice as well as he could have, and Cas picks up on it right away. “That doesn’t mean I love you any less, or that I’m bothered in any shape or form if you do believe in them.”

“It’s not really that,” Dean says carefully. “I’ve just... I don’t know. It’s stupid,” he finishes, deciding he’s not brave enough to say it aloud after all. 

“Nothing you could say would be stupid,” Castiel assures him. 

“What if I told another _why did the chicken cross the road_ joke?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Cas chastises gently. “I’d like to hear what you were trying to say before.”

“You’re gonna think I’m a head case.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve already locked me down for life,” Cas teases. “I want you to be able to speak freely with me, about anything. But I understand if you’re not quite there yet.”

That reminds him of how many times they’ve already opened up to each other in the past and how it always seemed to work out before, and it’s enough to get him to give in. 

“Sometimes I feel like I’ve met you before,” he blurts. “And I know it’s crazy because we haven’t, we couldn’t have, and yet... every now and then it just hits me.” Cas stays quiet, so he goes on a little. “Like... I know you on a level I don’t understand. Almost like I know you at your core, you know?” He knows he sounds stupid and that he isn’t explaining it very well, but he keeps going anyway. “I guess that’s why I thought of soulmates. Because it’s like a piece of me recognizes you on a deeper level than appearance or a first-name basis. Like I know your soul.”

“It’s as if you stole my most secretive thoughts and said them aloud,” Cas whispers. “Yes, _en olapireta._ I’ve felt that, too. I felt it the first time I touched your face standing outside your bedroom, the first time we kissed, and I felt it even more deeply when we were on the balcony right before I told you I loved you for the first time.”

Dean turns to see Castiel’s face, and although it’s only the one side, he’s sure Cas is serious. “Really?”

“Yes,” Cas says, leaning in for an uncoordinated kiss. “I never thought of it as souls, though I can see why you did now that you’ve described it. But I do feel like I know you on a much deeper level than your personality or likes and dislikes. Almost like... I knew you in another life.”

Dean feels his insides clench when he realizes Cas is saying what he thought on their walk a few days ago. “Like if there’s another realm out there, or an alternate reality somewhere with other versions of us, we’d be together there, too.”

“Yes,” Cas breathes. “That’s exactly it.”

Dean exhales happily. “I thought I was losing it.”

“If you are, I’m right there with you. And if our suspicions are correct, there’s not a place that exists that I’m not.”

It does seem right, the idea that if a million different versions of Castiel exist, each and every one of them would be there for him the way this Cas is. Reluctantly amused by him, loosening up because of him, doing anything and everything to protect him and make him happy, but most of all, loving every part of him for exactly who he is. He can’t imagine anything different. 

He thinks back to Sam’s dreams. Dreams of Dean, Sam, and Cas being squirrels, of Dean, Sam, and Cas in that graveyard fighting zombies. Of Chuck being the bad guy in every iteration of Sam’s dreams, and wonders for the first time exactly what his brother is seeing. _Are_ they dreams, or maybe, as crazy as it sounds... is it something more... supernatural? 

It’s something he’ll have to bring up to Sam sometime, but he shakes it off for now. Because for tonight, he’s content with his husband, with the bath they’re both relaxing in, and the unshakable knowledge that once again, he’s exactly where he should always be: with Cas.


	16. Chapter 16

Dean wakes late the next morning with Castiel slotted up against his back. His head is pillowed on Castiel’s arm stretched out in front of him, which _has_ to be ten kinds of numb, and Castiel’s other arm is around Dean’s waist with one hand resting on his belly. He knows Cas is awake because Castiel’s thumb is rubbing gentle circles on his abdomen, and though he isn’t quite ready to hop out of bed and start their day, he shifts around a little bit to let Cas know he’s woken up. 

Like Cas was waiting for this moment, Dean feels the scratch of stubble on his shoulder before a chaste kiss is pressed to his skin. “Good morning, husband of mine.”

Happiness suffuses him as the day before comes back to him. 

_They’re married._

Instead of responding right away, he slots his fingers between Castiel’s, then brings their hands to his mouth to kiss his wedding band before tucking their hands under his chin to snuggle back in for a little while. It seems Cas has other ideas though, if the way his lips begin traveling a slow and sensual path along his shoulder and to his neck is anything to go by. 

Because waking up with an orgasm is better than waking up without one, he’s inclined to let Cas do whatever it is he has in mind and hums quietly to give his permission. Cas’s hand wiggles free from Dean’s to slide down his chest and along the strip of skin between his belly button and his pubic hair. Dean inhales sharply as arousal sends blood racing between his legs to fill out his morning erection, but that’s when Castiel’s hand slips back up to his hip. Castiel’s mouth is open and wet on the bend of his neck though, and as he moves up to that little spot behind his ear, Dean can’t quite stifle a soft sound of pleasure.

“I love you.” Castiel’s low voice rumbles in his ear, reverberates against his back and nestles straight into his heart. “I love waking up with you. I love your skin,” Castiel continues, dragging his tongue down a tendon on his neck. “I love your freckles.” Soft lips pepper kisses all over his shoulder and between his shoulder blades, then the tip of his tongue flicks out of his mouth intermittently as he makes his way towards his armpit. “I love the way you smell.” Dean flushes and squirms a little when Cas gets too close, but then Cas starts tracing the ladder of his ribs with his tongue until he seals his mouth to the skin pulled tight along his hip bone. 

Dean inhales sharply with surprise, then chokes on it when Cas _sucks._ Cas stays right where he is, a mop of tousled dark hair hiding what he’s doing until he breaks away and looks down at the mark he’s sucked into Dean’s skin. The sight alone is enough to heat Dean’s blood, but then Cas hums low in his throat, like he, too, likes the way that looks, and Castiel’s fingers go to it like a magnet. It stings when Castiel’s fingers cover the bruise, but in an oddly good way that makes his heart flip in his chest.

Castiel moves back up to align his chest to Dean’s back, and Dean feels heat hit his face when the hard line of Castiel’s erection nudges between his thighs. He wiggles back eagerly to have it against him more substantially, earning a quiet groan from Castiel. Castiel’s fingers dig into his flesh to hold him still, and a moment later, his cock slips along the crease of Dean’s ass. 

“I love the way we fit.” 

Castiel’s voice has a huskier note to it now than it did a few minutes ago and it only increases Dean’s willingness to move this along. There’s plenty of things he and Cas can do in their bed, but Dean knows exactly what he wants and what to do to make it happen. He reaches for the bottle of lube on the end table and passes it over his shoulder to Cas, smiling when he gets a kiss to the apple of his cheek for it. 

“Are you sore, my love?” Castiel checks. 

Maybe he will be once they get started, but the only thing he can feel right now is arousal. “No. I’m good.” He shudders in Castiel’s arms when he hears the click of the bottle, anticipation coiling low in his stomach. Considering he had no idea what this even felt like this time yesterday, it’s amazing how badly he wants to have Cas moving inside of him again already. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the wet sound of Cas rubbing his hands together to warm up the lube, ramping Dean’s anticipation up to 11, and he’s already breathing hard when he feels two slick fingers sliding between his cheeks. Castiel circles his rim with gentle fingers for just a moment before a single digit sinks inside of him without resistance, making him shudder a second time as arousal slams into him like a fist. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, feeling himself go boneless against Castiel’s chest. “I—I want you so bad already.” 

“I want you, too,” Castiel responds. “Your body is paradise, inside and out. I can’t breathe for wanting you, Dean.”

He must be loose enough for Castiel to feel comfortable adding a second finger, because he feels the slight stretch only a few seconds later, and now he’s twice as full and ten times more eager. A groan escapes him before he can hold it back, his heart pounding as he waits for the inevitable sparks inside of him when Castiel crooks his fingers just right. 

Instead, Castiel’s breath is hot on his ear when he checks, “Feel okay?”

Dean answers immediately. “So good.”

Castiel’s fingers start moving in and out after that, mindfully and tenderly scissoring and stretching. The first brush to his prostate elicits a sharp sound of pleasure and shoots fire through his veins, and Cas hums low and appreciative while he mouths at his jaw. Dean’s cock is hard as stone and bumping gently against his stomach, and even without a hand on him, he can feel the wetness beading at the tip from just how turned on he is. Thankfully, it’s not long after when Cas adds a third finger, and the prep along with the sporadic stimulation to his sweet spot has Dean eager and Cas panting into his ear by the time he decides Dean’s finally ready to take what they both want. 

Like last night, it’s startling just how empty he feels after those thick fingers have been stretching him out, but only moments later, one hand is spreading his cheeks apart and the head of Castiel’s cock is kissing his hole. It’s thick and hot and wet with slick, and Dean tilts his ass out in permission a split second before Cas’s cock breaches him. They make dual sounds of pleasure as Cas sinks inside of him slowly, one sinful inch at a time. Cas feels fucking huge, the stretch _impossible_ but so damn good he can hardly breathe for several long seconds until Cas is fully seated with his hips pressed tight to Dean’s ass. 

Dean releases a shaky breath then, stuffed fucking _full_ in every way he could hope for, lolling his head to the side to give Cas more space to mouth along his neck while he waits for his body to get used to the intrusion. Cas takes the bait immediately, seeking out every spot his lips can reach to make it impossible for Dean to catch his breath. “You feel incredible,” Cas whispers. One hand is caressing his hip soothingly and the other grasps around blindly on the mattress until Dean’s reaches up to slot their fingers together. 

It feels so right, with Cas inside of him and their fingers fitted together so perfectly, that Dean’s suddenly swamped with the weight of his feelings. “Love you.”

“And I, you, _en olapireta_ _,”_ Castiel says back. “Endlessly.”

Any response he might have come up with is stolen by the sensation of a slickened hand slipping down to close around his cock. Cas doesn’t tease him or make him wait at all, he just starts stroking Dean steadily from root to tip, his grip tight and sure and immediately putting Dean on edge with his skill. Those big, nimble fingers massage the base of his cock expertly, sliding up to drag over the ridge where the shaft meets the head at the same time Cas thrusts experimentally inside of him for the first time.

As the combination of stimulation to his cock and his ass engulfs him, additional pleasure burrows and builds inside of him when he feels Cas’s low, rasping moan against the shell of his ear. Cas pulls back to thrust inside all over again, a little bit at a time until he’s moving freely with long, slow thrusts. Once he has a rhythm going, Castiel’s hand circles the tip of his cock, pumping just the head in his fist and squeezing its way back down as his cock plunges more deeply inside of him. 

_“Fuck,_ that’s good,” Dean wheezes.

Castiel agrees with a hum, matching the rhythm of his strokes to the languid, unhurried pace of his thrusts. The ease in which Cas is moving has Dean relaxing, too, the tension in his body dissipating with each lackadaisical roll of Castiel’s hips until he’s melting into the bed, _into Cas,_ closing his eyes and letting Cas give and take as much pleasure from his body as he possibly can. He winds up pressed even more snugly to Castiel’s chest, but instead of the additional closeness comforting him, it has a craving for _more_ rushing through him.

He squeezes Cas’s hand to try to ground himself, and Cas responds by rubbing that sensitive spot under his crown with his thumb. His mind goes blank from the onslaught of pleasure, and his breath shudders out of him when Cas’s cock presses inside nice and deep, grazing his prostate for the first time. Cas repeats the same movement a second time, making his lips part with the heavy breath that’s forced out of him, and Cas hums knowingly. 

“Like that, my prince?”

“Mmhmm,” Dean breathes. 

But as good as it feels to have Cas inside of him, he’s still aching for more, for how _complete_ he felt last night when they were connected in every way possible with Cas inside of him, their hands tied together, bodies slotted against each other, and Cas’s lips on his. He turns his head slightly, angling towards Castiel’s mouth to ask wordlessly for a kiss. Cas makes a soft sound low in his throat as their lips come together, connecting gently and readjusting bit by bit until they find the sweet spot, causing love to balloon inside of him so big and so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if it burst right out of him. 

He’s so in love that being with Cas like this feels so _right,_ is _so much_ that he can hardly comprehend the enormity of all of it at the same time. His free hand comes up to sink into Castiel’s hair while he licks into his mouth, holding him in place while their tongues dance between them, moving in time with Cas’s smooth thrusts between his cheeks. 

Cas kisses him passionately for several long moments, making Dean strain towards him for more before Cas sucks gently on his lip as he pulls away. “I love you,” Cas whispers, his blue eyes glistening. “I love you so much.” Dean’s heart clenches in his chest, his eyes watering automatically in response to the honesty in Castiel’s words. “With my body, I thee worship.”

Dean blinks rapidly, forcing away the tears that spring to his eyes as Castiel’s wedding vows echo in his ears. “C-Cas,” he chokes out.

“I am yours,” Castiel promises, kissing his lips. “Always.”

“Always,” Dean repeats, his voice thick with unshed tears.

Cas makes love to him slowly after that, pulling out an inch and sinking in two over and over again, rocking inside of him with precise but tender thrusts that match the tempo of his hand and the pressure of his lips. It feels like every part of him is lit up and glowing with the low, burning embers of desire, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Castiel’s endless kisses. The air around him feels damp and heavy, his breath coming out in muggy puffs mingling with Castiel’s, arousal building pleasantly but gradually enough that he doesn’t realize how close he’s getting until one particular twist of Castiel’s wrist has his body tensing as ecstasy rushes through him.

“Like that?” Cas asks him. His voice is rough and rumbling in the quiet of the bedroom, his lips teasing just below Dean’s earlobe and sending a shiver along his skin. Dean nods, riding the movements of Castiel’s body, switching seamlessly between fucking into Castiel’s fist and rolling his hips back to sink down on the thick length of Cas’s cock. “You’re gorgeous like this.”

Pride and desire mingle and clench inside of him, causing his groin to tighten as the heat in his stomach turns the embers to flames. The flush already painting his cheeks darkens because of his reaction to Cas’s words, and he can feel it creeping all the way down his neck to his chest. Cas’s lips follow the heat as it spreads until he’s sucking and nibbling on his neck, the sting sending a buzz of pleasure/pain through his system and causing a needy sound to escape him.

“Are you getting close?” Castiel asks quietly.

Dean nods again, struggling to find the ability to make words. “Yeah. A little—a little faster?”

Cas makes a contemplative sound before he seals his lips to Dean’s again, and although Cas doesn’t increase the pace or anything else about the way he’s making love to Dean, Dean’s still happy to lie there cocooned by Castiel’s strong body as they continue to kiss even when his lips get swollen and chapped.

It’s a long time later when they’re both breathing too hard to maintain the seal of their mouths that things really heat up. Cas hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder, looking down at the way his purpling cockhead pokes through his fist and groaning at the sight. Being watched is so unexpectedly erotic that it sends a lick of desire racing through him hot enough that he thrusts into Castiel’s hand faster, more forcibly, pulling a surprised sound of pleasure all the way from the soles of his feet.

“Okay,” Castiel murmurs, his voice nothing but a whisper. “Okay, _en olapireta._ I’ve got you, my love. I’m right here, and I’ll give you what you need.”

Cas knows exactly what he’s doing when he starts twisting his wrist on the upstroke after that, and after experiencing the same steady strokes and careful pace for so long, the tiny little bit of _different_ is enough to make the flames ignite. The fire has been heating up so gradually for such a long time, Dean doesn’t even have time to realize he’s about to hit the apex before it’s too late. Cas’s hand squeezes over the head nice and tight, his thumb trailing over his frenulum on the way down, and one final twist of Cas’s palm circling his cockhead on the upstroke has him staggering towards his orgasm.

He feels a tingling sensation in his chest, quickly spreading along his fevered skin to envelope him in the indescribable wonder of Castiel’s grace, and just like that, his orgasm crests. He comes with a silent sound of pleasure, his mouth hanging open and his body going rigid for just a moment before he melts back against the man he loves. Cas whispers his encouragement, sweet nothings, and countless declarations of love into his ear as Dean spurts over the sheets, onto his stomach, and over Castiel’s fingers. It feels like it goes on forever, like every single one of his two hundred bones evaporates into nothing one at a time, leaving him nothing but a shell of a human, so completely immersed in the enormity of his pleasure that he loses track of just how many times his hips jerk as he spills and spills and spills. 

Cas strokes him through it unerringly, coaxing every drop he can possibly wring out of his softening cock before he lets go and fits his fingers to the bruise he sucked on Dean’s hip instead. Cas holds him in place as he starts to fuck into him more ruthlessly, and maybe because of the faster pace or because Dean’s making all kinds of embarrassing sounds because of how sensitive his insides are now, Cas only lasts a handful of seconds before he wraps his arm around Dean’s chest and comes with a series of quiet grunts and satisfied sighs.

Cas groans softly as he pulls out and flops onto his back, and Dean rolls over immediately, fitting himself along Castiel’s heaving chest to catch his chapped lips in a long, drawn-out kiss. Now that he finally has the opportunity to touch Cas, he cups his face lovingly, brushes his hair off of his forehead, and runs his fingers through Castiel’s chest hair. Castiel hums against his lips, clearly content, and Dean’s lips curve into a smile as he dips his head to press feather-light kisses to the scruff along Castiel’s jaw.

“Love you,” Dean whispers. “Love you so fucking much, Cas.” Cas’s hand strokes down his spine, and Dean mouths his way down to his neck, swiping his tongue along the sweat glistening on his collarbone before sealing his mouth there for a wet kiss. “All of you.” His hand caresses Castiel’s hip, his palm skates over his pubic hair and up past his belly button to finally rest on his heart. “I wish—I wish I had the fancy words, Cas,” Dean confesses. “So you’d know just how much, but I—”

“—show me every time you touch me,” Castiel interrupts him. “I don’t need fancy words, Dean, I only need you.”

“You got me,” Dean tells him, echoing Castiel’s words from before but in a completely different context. His lips quirk when he realizes he can use his vows against Cas the same way Cas used his. “My hand, my heart, and my spirit.”

Castiel’s eyes are glowing when he surges up to catch his lips this time, and Dean sinks into the kiss with a groan when he feels Castiel’s grace caressing his skin. He didn’t notice the absence of it until now, and he lets it brush over him before it seems to shrink and dissipate bit by bit. He feels something inside of him ache a little less, but he’s still apologetic when he feels it disappear altogether.

He breaks their kiss with another confession. “I freaking love your grace, Cas.”

Cas huffs quietly, pulling Dean in until his head is pillowed on Castiel’s chest. “I think it must love you in return. I’ve never felt it rise to the surface so quickly and so easily as it does with you.”

Unfortunately, the reminder of his grace doing more than they thought it could brings reality crashing down on him. They’ve both been careful not to mention it since they left their bedroom for the reception, but Castiel’s dad is still locked in the dungeons and they have no idea why he attempted to kill The King of the Hunters or what’s going to happen to him now that he has. He feels Castiel’s previously relaxed body tense, and he knows he’s thinking the same thing.

“It’s selfish of me, but I wish we could stay here forever,” Castiel says quietly. “In our bubble of happiness, where we’re newlyweds with nothing to worry about but how we’ll find time to eat between endless rounds of making love.”

“I wish that, too,” Dean admits, not wanting Cas to feel like he’s the only one. 

“Perhaps we can return to it once we’ve dealt with my father,” Cas suggests. “I’ll speak to The King, request a few days to allow us both a proper honeymoon to celebrate our union. I’ll spin it to make it seem like I need to visit more of the kingdom and you and I can spend a few nights at an Inn or two.” He presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. “Have all of the kingdom gossiping about how loud the Prince of the Hunters is in bed.”

Dean snorts a laugh, but snuggles in even closer. “I’ll tell you what, you convince my dad to let us do that, and I’ll scream loud enough so that the kingdom _next door_ will be talking about your sexual prowess.”

Castiel sounds entirely too pleased with himself when he says, “You have yourself a deal. But until then, let’s see what I can do in the shower.”

Quite a lot, as it turns out. What started as a couple of lazy hand jobs somehow ended up with Dean bent at the waist with his face against the shower wall and Castiel pounding into him so hard he’s absolutely _sure_ that Castiel’s grace is healing him when he’s able to walk without a limp afterwards. They get distracted with more kisses when they realize there’s something unbearably sexy watching each other get dressed for the day, seeing those broad shoulders and golden skin getting covered with one layer at a time, and so by the time they make their way to the dining room, it’s close enough to lunch that Ellen asks which they’d like to have prepared for them.

They both go with a Hunter’s Breakfast, though Dean tells Ellen to add fruit instead of eggs for Cas, and they chat idly as they sip their tea and coffee until it’s ready. When Ellen comes back in with their food, their seats have somehow moved closer together, and their hands are cradled in Castiel’s lap. Ellen takes one look at the two of them before her eyes turn all soft, and once she places their food in front of them, she tells them what a beautiful ceremony it was and how happy she is for the both of them. Dean’s blushing when she heads back to the kitchen, and Castiel leans in to plant a smacking kiss to his burning cheek, only making it worse. 

They eat in a comfortable silence, then as if Sam was hovering in the doorway waiting for Cas to take his last bite, he pokes his head into the dining room. 

“Hey,” Sam says. “Mom and dad want us to meet them in the throne room.”

Dean looks to Cas. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They get to their feet and follow Sam down the hall. Sam falls into step next to Dean, and although he’s smiling like he’s teasing him, Sam sounds serious when he asks, “How was the rest of your night?”

“Like a gay fairy tale,” Dean replies, which gets a snicker from Sam.

“It was lovely,” Cas answers, more genuinely. “How was the rest of the reception?”

“It was great. Pretty sure mom got drunk on wine, which was hilarious. She even got dad up to dance,” Sam says, grinning. “He’s been in a weirdly good mood ever since...”

“Yeah,” Dean finishes. “Near death experience’ll do that to ya.”

“I guess,” Sam says with a shrug.

“Nothing bad happened, though?”

“Nope,” Sam answers. “Smooth sailing as far as I know.”

They’ve reached the throne room now, though, so Dean says, “Yeah. Until now. Do you know anything about what’s waiting for us in there?”

Sam shakes his head. “Not a thing.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Castiel declares, squeezing Dean’s hand. “To either of you.”

And he’s not going to let anything happen to Cas, not even if it’s Castiel’s own dad he has to protect Cas from. So with a nod, Sam pushes the door open and the three of them walk inside. His mom and dad are seated at their thrones, but they’re pretty dressed down, and his mom’s hair is even hanging loosely. His dad is in slacks and a jacket, but a casual one. For the first time in his life, he’s pretty sure he’s overdressed compared to them, and he can tell by the smile on his mom’s face that she’s noticed, too.

“Good morning,” she greets them brightly. She stands and approaches them immediately, going to Sam for a hug first before Dean and then Cas. He watches Castiel’s eyes go a little wide at first and then sink into it, and Dean wants to kiss him when he sees that Cas is legitimately blushing when his mom pulls away. “How are my three favorite boys?”

“You can’t have three favorites,” Dean says. “Defeats the purpose of the word.”

“Okay, how are my _two_ favorite boys?” she asks, turning away from him and towards Cas and Sam.

They all laugh, and then she grabs Dean’s free hand and leads them over to the chairs set up in front of the thrones. Bobby and Rufus flank the thrones, and Dean notices for the first time the bandage on Rufus’s head. “You okay, Rooftop?” Dean checks.

“Not the first hit to the melon I’ve taken, Your Highness,” Rufus says back. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“If you need to take a load off, just let me know and you can take my seat,” Dean offers.

“Or mine,” Castiel adds.

“Nah, you keep yours and I can sit in your lap,” Dean grins.

“Alright, that’s enough,” his dad says, finally speaking. Then he shocks the shit out of him when he asks, “Did the two of you enjoy your wedding night?”

Dean flushes red to the tips of his ears, but responds, “Yes, Sir.”

“While we understand the reason, Your Majesties, we were sorry to have to cut it short,” Castiel says. “I mentioned to Dean earlier this morning that once we’ve dealt with my father and anything else that needs our attention, I would like to take some time with just him and I. See more of the kingdom, perhaps stay at a few of the inns scattered throughout the kingdom.”

“Well, I think it’s a lovely idea,” Mary replies. “You two have been through a lot since you’ve met, and I’m sure some time with just the two of you and nothing else to worry about would be a welcome break. What do you say, John?”

“We can discuss it after we speak to the King of the Angels,” his dad responds. “Before he joins us though, I have to tell you boys something I should have told you long ago.” Dean doesn’t miss the way his mom reaches over to take his dad’s hand, so he figures that combined with the words _you boys_ means she already knows whatever is about to come from his dad. “The first time the King of the Angels approached me about an arranged marriage between our kingdoms, I refused. We promised you boys from the beginning that you would be able to marry for love, and I wanted to stick to my word.”

“But you didn’t,” Dean says, his insides turning to stone at the reminder.

“I didn’t, and I want you to know right now that has nothing to do with your preferences when it comes to gender,” his dad says. Castiel’s hand finds his, and because he knows his dad wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it, he nods his acceptance. “King Charles wrote back and informed me that if I didn’t agree to help his people fight the demons, then the angels would join forces with the demons and attack our castle instead.” John shakes his head bitterly. “We’re good fighters, the best in the realm, but the fact is, we don’t have the numbers. We would have been overpowered by the joined forces of both kingdoms. I had no choice but to agree to his demands.”

“Why?” Castiel asks. “Why would my father blackmail you into joining forces and then try to kill you?”

“Perhaps because I didn’t agree so easily?” John guesses. 

“But you did agree to it,” Sam says, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Why kill somebody who’s going to help save your kingdom?”

“Unless the kingdom didn’t really need the help,” Dean says, remembering what Castiel and Gabriel were talking about yesterday.

Castiel looks at him sharply, and he knows he heard what Dean didn’t say. “Then why force the marriage in the first place?”

“What do you mean the kingdom didn’t need the help?” Mary asks.

“We don’t know for sure,” Dean starts. “But based on a couple of things Gabriel was saying yesterday... well, it’s not entirely clear if there’s an actual war going on or not.”

“How can there not be a war going on?” John asks, sounding skeptical and annoyed by the very suggestion. “Your mother and I were there. We saw the television footage.”

“It could be fake, Your Majesty,” Castiel says. “Computer animation is good enough now that it’s almost impossible to tell what’s real and what isn’t. Gabriel said he doesn’t know a single soldier who has actually been in battle, and he’s a high-ranking soldier. He would know.”

“What about the rest of the soldiers?” Mary asks. “Why haven’t they said anything?”

“Anybody who questions anything gets sent ‘into battle’—” Dean fails to stifle a snicker when Cas uses actual finger quotes and earns himself a glare from his father. “—and doesn’t return.”

“Who’s giving those orders?” John demands.

“From what I understand, that would be my father,” Castiel replies. “And I realize this looks bad, but I swear to you, to all of you,” Castiel says, looking at Dean now. “I didn’t know any of that before yesterday.”

“It’s true. I was there when Gabriel told him,” Dean says, jumping to his defense.

“And you didn’t think that was prudent information to share with the king?” John asks, his voice hard.

“Gee, dad, I guess it slipped my mind somewhere between watching you get stabbed and me and Cas getting naked,” Dean says honestly. He hears the quiet huff of laughter from Sam and lets his smile grow. “You know now, anyway.”

“Exceedingly helpful, Dean. Thank you,” John says sarcastically.

"Well you didn't tell _us_ what you saw at our wedding that had you ordering us back here before everything went to shit, either," Dean points out.

"Language," his father chastises him. "I thought I caught a glimpse of the Queen of the Demons, but despite our best efforts, we couldn't track her down. I still don't know for sure if it was her or not, but considering the circumstances, I'm not sure it matters."

"I've been thinking," Mary says as she turns back to her husband. "We never did see any signs of war in the Angel kingdom. It’s possible it’s not contained to the border after all.”

“And it just doesn’t exist,” John finishes, nodding his head. “Castiel? Your thoughts?”

“As much as it pains me to admit, after what I saw my father attempt yesterday, I, too believe it’s possible,” he relents. “But I don’t understand the reasoning behind it. Why fake a war, elicit help that isn’t needed, and then attack the person who made it happen?”

“I suppose we have a good place to start the questioning with the King,” John says. “Bobby, could you go let him in, please?”

“Yes, sir,” Bobby responds, starting down the few steps and walking towards the door. 

They all turn when the doors open and Chuck is escorted into the room by Gabriel and two other soldiers. He’s still in the clothes he had on last night, and even though he has a total of five guards watching his every move and his hands are cuffed behind his back, he seems completely at ease with the situation as he strolls into the room like he’s taking a leisurely walk through the gardens.

“Hey, guys,” Chuck greets them all. Then, turning to Cas, he asks, “How was the reception? Sorry I missed it. I was kinda tied up.”

Dean blinks at him, trying to make sense of this strange little man while Castiel answers his question. “It was wonderful. Everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Chuck turns back to Dean and says, “It’s true, you know. You’re the key to his happiness every time.”

“Every time?” Dean repeats. 

“Just can’t keep the two of you apart,” Chuck confirms. “He always finds his way back to you.”

“That’s love,” Mary says, her voice hard. “But I suppose you wouldn’t know much about that.”

“Love,” Chuck scoffs. “So fleeting. There one second, gone the next. You should know,” he says to Mary. “Me, though? I’m much more interested in power.”

“Is that why you blackmailed me into forcing these two to get married?” John asks.

Chuck tilts his head side to side as if he’s contemplating his response. “Well, yes and no.”

“Come on then,” Dean says, squaring his shoulders to egg him on. “Every evil douchebag loves a good monologue, right? So let’s hear the pathetic pity party about how you weren’t loved enough as a kid and how it turned you into a power-hungry excuse of a man, huh?”

To his surprise, Chuck laughs. Not a belly laugh or anything, but a huff of laughter that definitely gets his amusement across. “Believe me, you don’t have time to hear my life story. I don’t even have time to tell it to you. I’m a very busy guy, you know.”

Dean snorts a laugh of his own. “Something tells me you’re gonna have a lotta free time on your hands soon.”

“I can see why you think that, but it’s not gonna happen,” Chuck replies. “But because I am sorta proud of how this all went down, I’ll help you fill in the blanks.” He turns to Gabriel then, and asks, “I’m guessing you figured out the part about the war?”

“That there is no war?” Gabriel asks back.

“Yeah, that,” Chuck answers. When Gabriel’s jaw drops at the easy admission, Chuck shrugs his shoulders. “What can I say? It was easy to fabricate, and it got me what I wanted.”

“Which was what exactly?” John asks.

Chuck turns towards him slowly, his affable demeanor shifting into something mean and hard the longer he looks at John. “You,” he says lowly, shaking his head again. “Every time I leave you alive, you do nothing but cause trouble. You’d think I’d learn my lesson, but no. I’m just too curious, too interested in figuring out which details I have to tweak to make you likable or the most-hated character in the universe.” He leans in a little closer and whispers, “People usually hate you.”

To his dad’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch. “Why do you hate me?”

“Oh, I don’t hate you,” Chuck says quickly. “I actually kinda like you.”

“You tried to kill me,” John reminds him.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t personal,” Chuck says, like he’s discussing his favorite ice cream flavor instead of stabbing somebody. 

“What was it then?” Mary asks.

Chuck sighs, then rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall closest to John. “I like being in control,” he starts. “Heaven, Hell, and everything in between, in all of the different universes. I control it all, and honestly, I kinda love it. I got the bug, you know?” Dean slides his eyes over to Cas, raising his eyebrows in a, _what the hell is this guy going on about?_ kinda way. Castiel narrows his eyes and shakes his head, which he takes to mean Cas has no idea. “I wanted more. So every now and then, I dip my fingers into a few pies, feel ‘em out to see what takes and what doesn’t. In this realm,” he says, lifting his eyes to the ceiling in a sweeping gesture. “I got caught up in the whole stealing land thing.”

“Stealing land,” Castiel repeats, his eyebrows still drawn together in confusion.

“That’s right,” Chuck confirms. “Very satisfying. Kinda like a drug. Did it once, and I immediately wanted to do it again.”

“Wait a minute,” Sam says, speaking up for the first time. “Did it once? The Land of the Fairies?”

“Yeah, we took that over,” Chuck confirms. “Very good, Sam.”

“I thought we took in their people to help free them from an unjust leader?” Castiel asks.

Chuck shrugs. “That’s what I wanted you to think. Wonder where I came up with the idea?” he laughs. “But yeah, truth is, I took it over the same way I want to take over the Land of the Demons.”

“So you forced a partnership with my kingdom, hoping my men would help you take over in the name of war?” John asks.

“That was the original idea, yeah,” Chuck says, nodding his head. “But when you and Mary kept bickering under your breath about Dean and I realized what a hard ass you’d have to be to force your _gay_ son into a marriage with somebody you thought he’d never learn to love, I knew you’d never go for it. I’d never be able to pull off my plan without resistance from you, so I decided to kill you. Problem solved.”

Dean gapes at him. “And you thought—what? You’d just kill my dad and then we’d let you go free and listen to everything you asked me to do? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Oh no, I know you’re not stupid, Dean. Believe me, I’ve learned to never underestimate you. Or Sam, actually,” he adds. “But Castiel, on the other hand, he’s usually so eager to prove himself to you that it makes him easy to manipulate.”

“Cas doesn’t have to prove shit to me or anybody else,” Dean says angrily. “I _know_ him.”

“Ah, young love,” Chuck says, tilting his head condescendingly. “See, Dean here is much too young and rash for anybody with half a brain to give him the responsibilities of a king, so I thought if I waited until after he and Castiel were married, the power would go to Castiel. _He_ would be King of the Hunters, and then—”

“You thought I would turn on Dean? On the man I love?” Castiel asks, incredulous.

“Well, to be fair, I had no reason to think you’d go and fall in love in a week,” Chuck says, laughing a little. “Who _does_ that? Even when you pulled him out of Hell, it took you longer to fall than that. I thought when I got here, you would be loyal to me, not him. But I have to say, you threw a heck of a wrench in that plan when you healed The King of the Hunters instead of letting him die. Next thing I know, I’m locked up and spending the night in actual _dungeons._ Me! In a dungeon!”

“It’s much less than what you deserve,” Castiel says, his voice cold as ice.

Once again, Chuck smiles, like he’s enjoying himself instead of being minutes away from being sentenced to a beheading. “I like this version of you, Castiel. Humanity suits you. I’ve always thought so.” Before anybody can say anything else, he clasps his hands together and asks, “So, any other questions? Any loose ends we need tied up?”

“Yeah, what—”

 _“His cuffs!”_ Sam exclaims. “His hand cuffs are gone!”

Chuck smiles once more as all five guards charge, then says, “I guess that’s my cue. It was fun while it lasted, boys. Enjoy what time you have left, because it won’t be much. It’s time to clear the board.”

And then Chuck snaps his fingers and _disappears_ into thin air.

Dean blinks, blinks again, and then whirls in a circle, trying to figure out how the hell Chuck just vanished without a trace. “Where the hell did he go?” Dean asks Cas.

Cas looks just as surprised as he does. “I don’t understand.”

“Is he a madge?” Sam asks. “He must be. He must have used magic. There’s no other way—”

“Search the castle,” John commands Bobby. “Every room, every closet, under every bed, and every inch of the castle grounds. I want to know without a doubt that he isn’t here, and then I want guards stationed at every door of every room in case he shows up again.”

“I really don’t think there’s much point in that,” Gabriel says. Everybody stops and turns to face him all at once. “...Your Majesty,” he adds belatedly.

"Go on," Mary urges him.

“Seems to me if he can disappear and reappear whenever he wants to, he’s gonna have the element of surprise on his side no matter how many guards you have stationed around the castle," Gabriel says.

“Gabriel’s right,” Dean says, hating the truth but knowing that’s what it is. “We couldn’t stop Chuck from leaving, so we’re not going to be able to stop him from coming back.”

“So we do nothing?” John asks, his voice shaking with rage.

“There are sigils,” Sam says suddenly. “I’ve been reading a lot about ancient magic, and there are symbols we can carve into the castle walls that will light up anytime somebody enters the castle grounds. I don’t know for sure what Chuck is—if he’s a madge or a really powerful angel or what—but as long as his heart beats, the sigils should pick him up.”

“I’ve seen them used before,” Gabriel chimes in. “If you ask me—and I know nobody did, but that’s just the kinda guy I am—that’s a much better idea than guards everywhere.”

“I agree with Gabriel,” Mary says. “John?”

“Give it a try, Sam, and if you can demonstrate that they work, I’ll call off some of the guards,” John says. “But until then, Bobby?”

“Yes, Sir. On it, Sir. Your Highnesses,” he says to Sam, Dean, and Castiel. “You three stick together with Gabriel. I figure between him and Prince Castiel, you’re as safe as you’re gettin’.”

Dean nods his agreement. “We’ll be in the library.”

“The moment you have those sigils working, I want to hear about it,” John says. “No distractions this time, you three. This is serious.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean responds, and without another word, the four of them head towards the library. As they walk through the castle in a tense silence, Dean realizes how exposed and vulnerable he feels despite having Gabriel there to protect them. “I wish I had a sword with me,” he grumbles under his breath.

“My angel blade is in your room,” Cas says.

“Our room,” Dean corrects automatically, stopping outside the doorway. He nods towards the room and says, “Grab it for me?”

It’s in the top drawer of his dresser, already in a little sheath. Cas passes it to Dean as they cross the hall and go into the library, and then when Sam, Cas, and Gabriel gather around a stack of books that look older than the three of them put together, Dean pulls the angel blade free from its sheath and examines it for the first time.

The metal or whatever it’s made out of is unlike anything he’s ever seen, but it’s intimately familiar somehow. Like he’s seen this before, but doesn’t remember when. The weight of the blade is much less than he expected for the size of it, but it still feels solid and comfortable in his hand. He slices through the air with it a few times, testing it out, and nods to himself when he likes the way it feels. He can’t wait to get out on the battlefield and really put it to the test, guessing that the shape of it will help it to sail through the air flawlessly. 

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asks. Castiel turns away from what he’s doing to approach him. “What’d you say this was made of again?”

“I didn’t,” Castiel replies. “But it’s made from angel grace. Each member of the royal family has one. My dad had my mom’s, but I’m hoping it got left behind. I’ll use that one, and you can have this one.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks.

“It’s a piece of me, so if anybody should have it, it should be you, my love.” Castiel smiles at him with his eyes, and lifts the hand that’s holding the blade between them. “It will match your wedding ring.”

 _That’s_ where he’s seen it before. The metal is the same shiny silver that’s currently wrapped around his finger. “Knew the blade was familiar somehow.” Then, because they have at least a semblance of privacy, he asks, “How’re you doing? With all your dad stuff.”

“It’s difficult to accept that he’s the kind of man I saw today,” Castiel says quietly. “But I suppose it’s a good thing we were never very close, because it doesn’t hurt as much as it would otherwise. Not only does he have some sort of powers I knew nothing about, but he must also have some kind of mental health problems.”

“The way he was talking about being in control of Heaven and Hell,” Dean guesses.

Castiel nods. “Yes. It’s a dangerous combination.”

“We can talk to my dad about that,” Dean offers quietly. “Explain that he clearly isn’t in his right mind, and to be lenient with his punishment when he gets caught.”

Castiel’s eyes soften. “Thank you, Dean. I don’t know why, and I have no proof to back it up whatsoever, but I get the feeling that was the last we’ll see of my father.”

“Really?” Dean asks, surprised to hear that. Castiel nods, and Dean asks, “What will happen to your kingdom?”

Castiel shrugs. “If my father doesn’t return, it will move into the control of my oldest brother. One of the positives to being the last born son is that I don’t have to worry about that. The kingdom will be in good hands, and I can be here with you where I belong.”

Dean steps towards him, closing the little bit of space between their bodies. “Guess we have your dad to thank for one thing.”

“It’s strange, but I feel certain I would have somehow made my way to you even without his interference,” Castiel says quietly, cupping his cheek. “But I’m glad I found you when I did, _en olapireta._ I was so lonely without you.”

Dean’s heart aches at the very idea. “Never again,” he promises. “We’re two princes who fell in love despite the odds and got rid of the bad guy—maybe temporarily, maybe not,” he says, making Cas laugh quietly. “Point is, I’ve read enough fairy tales to know how this ends, Cas.”

Castiel slides his hands over Dean’s shoulders to loop around his neck, and asks, “How’s that?”

The castle remains on high-alert for months with Sam’s sigils carved into the walls of every room, but Chuck doesn’t come back. Months later, Sam comes bursting into their room in the middle of the night, telling a naked Dean and Castiel clothed with only the bed sheets that he had a dream about Chuck. In his dream, the other Sam and Dean from the graveyard dream trapped Chuck in The Empty for all of eternity, and even though they’re all in agreement that there’s no way that’s what really happened to him, something obviously has.

Chuck is never seen or heard from after that night. He doesn’t go back to the Land of the Angels, he doesn’t return to the Land of the Hunters, and eventually, the security at the castle relaxes a little bit at a time until life returns to its new normal.

Dean works side-by-side with Bobby training their new men, and Castiel spends his days helping Jo with the greenhouse and tending to the chickens. John talks to them both about that repeatedly, trying to convince them that’s no job for a prince and that they have hired help to handle those things on purpose, but Castiel insists it makes him happy, and with Dean and Mary’s support, John has no choice but to let it go. 

In fact, John lets a lot more go these days than he ever did before Dean and Castiel’s wedding day. Family dinners are no longer filled with the awkward silences and rigid rules of Dean’s childhood, and instead, laughter rolls freely and conversation flows easily. Dean gets the love and attention he’s always sought from his father from his loving and doting husband instead, and he spends every spare minute coaxing smiles and orgasms from the man he loves to repay him. Gabriel moves into the smallest guest room permanently and takes a rotation in being Cas and Dean’s personal guard. Sam proposes to Jessica Moore the day he turns nineteen, and several years and two babies later, Jessica gives birth to the future king.

They’re surrounded by all of the riches money can’t buy: family, love, and happiness, and like Dean predicted in the library that day so long ago... they all live happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that wound up a little abruptly, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to show what happened to Chuck, and once that happened, the story was just... done. I hope it wasn't too much of a disappointment!
> 
> Another story of mine you might like if you liked this one is [Molting Expectations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378316/chapters/38331968). It also features fantasy elements and world building. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, please make sure to hit that kudos button before you close the window! Thank you for reading!


End file.
